Measure my Endeavors
by AfewSentencesShortOfaParagraph
Summary: Clare Edwards's first semester at Smithdale U is off to a crazy start: her roommate is impossibly eccentric, her best friend is being bullied for reasons he doesn't seem comfortable talking about, her parents keep fighting, and-oh yeah-her English partner is more secretive than anyone she's ever met. It would be enough to drive any girl mad, but Clare is strong...right? AU
1. Chapter 1

**So, I really enjoyed writing that one-shot. I know I have unfinished stories, but I feel like I tried to drag them out unnaturally. On top of the show going down in quality, I stopped writing for the important reasons. I wanted reviews and to be popular and recognized. **

**I am leaving that behind, and I am writing stories for myself to have fun with a couple I used to really love. If people like my stuff and want to read it, cool. If not, that's okay, too.**

**Without further ado, this is a semi-short AU story dedicated to everything I used to love about EClare, the Misfits, and all my old writer friends that came back without any hesitation. I missed you guys. **

I plunked the last box down on the hard, blue mattress as my dad dropped the bag of shoes he had just carried up from the van in the bottom of my dresser. "Well, Clare-bear, I think that's the last of it. I have to say, at least you packed lighter than Darcy."

"Dad, I go to university now. Any way I can bribe you to drop the bear from the end of my name?" I joked as I started to rummage around in the boxes for my bedding. I was anxious to get everything set up so I could get out of the room; I wanted to give my roommate enough time to settle in, too.

"You'll always be our little girl, no matter where you go to school." He protested, draping his arm around my mother's shoulder as she tried to hang up my nice, church dresses before they wrinkled. It was almost imperceptible, the way she stiffened under his touch. Almost.

Removing herself easily from under his arm, my mom finished hanging up the last dress. "Do you want help unpacking, Clare? Because we could stay; we both took off work."

"I know, but I think I can manage from here."

It was almost noon, and we had set out on course for Smithdale U about four hours ago. I was ready for my parents to leave. I didn't think I'd be able to take another passive aggressively snide remark from either one of them.

Setting down my shower caddy, Mom seemed to deflate a little. "You'll call if you need anything, right? Anything at all. Just because you are a university girl now doesn't mean you can't ask your mom for help or advice, anything like that."

I felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of my stomach, but I pushed it aside. Everything was fine with them. I didn't have to feel so crummy for living in the dorms, they were adults. But I still felt protective of them and like I had somehow done something wrong.

"I'm not Darcy. I promise I won't fall off the face of the Earth and never call. I bet you guys will barely realize I moved out." My smile was forced, but my mom seemed to relax.

"I'll call you tonight, sweetie. Good luck." She rushed forward to pull me into an awkward hug, and I let myself melt into the comfort of her embrace for a moment. "I love you, Clare."

"I love you, too, Mom." I squeezed extra tight for a moment before stepping out of the circle of her arms. "And I love you, Dad."

"I know you'll make us proud, Clare-bear."

I nodded and blew them kisses as—with an unnaturally large distance between them—they headed down the hall to the elevator. When they were out of sight, I let the door fall shut behind me and flopped onto the half-made bed.

For a moment I just sat there, waiting to feel different…older. Instead, I felt exhausted, confused, and a little lost. Holding back tears of panic, I quickly moved around the room unpacking.

When I was satisfied that everything was in an appropriate place, I grabbed my ID, meal card, a novel, and my jean jacket.

Smithdale's campus was buzzing with students trapped in various states of moving back. It was a warm end-of-summer day, and the breeze carried around the smell of laundry detergent and mown grass. As I walked along, I started to feel more and more comfortable. Free, in a weird kind of way. There was something refreshing about being in a new place where you are the only person you know and nobody knows who you are. I flexed my fingers around the spine of my book and stood up taller.

And then a body slammed into me from the side, knocking me over.

"Fore!" A group of burly guys called out to me, laughing.

"Idiots," the body grumbled as I got to my feet. I offered him my hand, tugging him up. "Real mature, guys," the kid called to the group. "Use me to beat up a girl. Neanderthals."

The guys just laughed and made a rude gesture while they walked away. One of them glared menacingly at the kid for a moment too long before jogging to catch up with his friends.

"Um, are you okay? Your nose is bleeding." I studied my tackler's face. He was wearing a beanie on his head, light brown hair falling over his forehead in a shaggy swoop. His features seemed oddly delicate for a male's, but he had a really friendly smile that made me instantly like him.

"I think I'll live. Has anyone ever died of a nosebleed? It's probably unlikely."

"We should probably still sit you down, clean you up." I fell into step easily beside the stranger, brushing off my dress. "I'm Clare, by the way."

"Adam," he replied, offering his hand after wiping the blood off on his shirt.

"Nice to meet you," I smiled at him, politely avoiding his hand. "Did you know those guys?"

Adam held the door to the student center open for me, and I led him over to an empty bench.

"Nope. I guess they didn't like my face, and decided to beat me up free of a vendetta. Lucky me."

I snorted. "I'm going to go grab some paper towels. You should just, uh, tilt your head back. Be back in a sec." I rushed into the nearest girl's bathroom and grabbed a bunch of paper towels, wetting half of them, before running back to where Adam was bleeding. "Hold these to your nose," I ordered, offering him the dry towels. I used the damp ones to wipe at the drying blood on his cheeks, but when I reached to dab at the blood staining his shirt, Adam practically jumped out of his skin.

"Wow, would you look at that." He shouted in my face, making me flinch back. "I feel better already. Thanks a bunch, Clare. You're really cool for a stranger. If I had to knock anyone over, I'd pick you again in a heartbeat."

"Um, thank you?" I managed to slip in as Adam continued to frantically ramble. He stood up and started to back away from me.

"Who knows? Maybe we'll have a class together, this school isn't that big. Definitely say hi if you see me around."

With that, Adam turned around and practically sprinted away from me.

I stood, shocked, with a handful of bloody paper towels in my hand. "University is weird," I muttered to myself, picking up my book off the bench.

###

I walked back to the room around three thirty after spending some time at one of the dining halls with my novel.

"Clare Edwards!" a girl with a crazy, complicated hairdo and thick-framed glasses squealed when I opened the door. "I was about to hire dogs with crazy-good sense of smell to track you down. Welcome, roomie!"

"You must be Imogen." I set my book on my desk and sat down on the edge of my bed.

"The one and only," she declared proudly. "Actually, I'm probably not the only one, huh? I'm very un-Tigger-like in that way."

I nodded dumbly, unsure of what to make of this person. Imogen plopped down across from me on the edge of her own bed. "I'm really excited for this year," Imogen continued to bubble, unaffected by my own lack of enthusiasm. "Last year, my roommate smoked all the time and liked to talk about me like I didn't actually exist. But you, Clare Edwards, I can sense that you are much nicer.

It seemed like the conversation contained a lot of potential landmines, so I went with what seemed like the safest remark. "So this isn't your first year?"

Imogen shook her head. "Second, actually. I get to audition for leading roles this year. I've already been working on my song for the spring musical." She clapped enthusiastically and sprang up from the bed. She went to working hanging a poster for the musical Spring Awakening above her bed.

"I take it you're a theater major," I guessed.

"Yuppers!"

I didn't know what else to say, so I flopped backward and settled in bed. I sent my mom a quick text, letting her know that I was settling in just fine, and then closed my eyes and tried to tell myself that things would be better when classes started.

###

Monday morning, Imogen's alarm went off at ten minute intervals for an hour before she got up to go to her 9:15 jazz class. After she rushed out of the room in a hurry, the door falling closed heavily behind her, I sat up in bed. I didn't have class till 11:30—Intro to Women's Literature—but I didn't think I'd be able to fall back asleep.

I had spent Sunday getting together my books and supplies for all my classes, and my backpack was already loaded and ready for the day. With a lot of time to kill, I took a shower and went to work looking nice for my first day. I dried and curled my hair, picked out one of my modest, flowery dresses and a light cardigan, and even added an uncharacteristic dash of mascara.

Still considerably early, I left my room and grabbed a quick coffee and bagel. I settled on the floor outside the classroom and pulled out my book so I could read while I ate.

I had only been sitting there for a few minutes before a slim guy in dark, tight jeans, a worn Bad Religion t-shirt, and a black military jacket plopped down across the hall. He immediately pulled out a worn notebook and a pen. His fingernails looked like they had been colored in with sharpie, and his hair put Adam's to shame in terms of shagginess. It was like a black mop that fell over his eyes—it was just on the side of too long.

I hadn't even noticed that I was staring until he cleared his throat. "I realize that the whole college experience can be overwhelming, but helpful tip: gawking is not a great way to endear yourself to strangers."

He didn't even glance up from his notebook to tell me off, but I felt my cheeks burst into flames anyway. "H-how did you know I was a freshman?" I squeaked.

"Lucky guess," The guy snorted. "You reek of hope and naivety."

"Hey," I bristled. "You don't—"

"Look, I'm sure you're a lovely person." His tone suggested that he was not at all sure of that. "But all I wanted was for you to stop staring. I'm not looking to have some kind of heart to heart." Only then did he glance up at me, and I noticed that his eyes were green. Like deep, clover green. They were also impossibly hard—liquid steel.

"Sorry for cramping your style." I was going for biting sarcasm, but my words came out sounding too wounded. Frustrated and flustered, I turned back to my book, trying to pretend Mr. Cranky Pants didn't exist.

The uncomfortable tension stretched on until more people arrived to dilute it. Finally, a woman who looked to be in her late forties wearing a flowing skirt and a long, brown sweater swooped down the hall, books under her arm. She unlocked the door, and all the students filed into the room.

I chose a seat up front and off to the side. Not that I was looking, but Mr. Cranky Pants settled toward the back, his fingers twirling his pen at an impossibly fast pace.

"Hello, class." The woman had settled her stuff on the front table. "I am Dr. Dawes, and this is Introduction to Women's Literature. If you suspect you are in the wrong place, please leave as quickly and quietly as possible." She started to count out papers for every row, passing out the syllabus. "This is a survey course, so there will be a lot of reading to keep up with. If I suspect much of the class is slacking, I will start each class with a quiz. There will be two major papers, a midterm and final, and a partner project in which you and another person in this room of my choosing will present on a woman or work of literature that has advanced the theory in some way. I will assign partners after we go over the syllabus, and you will be expected to do some research and pick a topic within one week for my approval."

I felt like I was hitting the ground running, but everyone else was so much faster than me. Dr. Dawes talked very quickly, and I was overwhelmed by the onslaught of information. As she went on, detailing which editions of each book we should get, I hurried to jot down everything she said.

As the time was winding down, she stopped talking and pulled a sheet out her pile of things. "I will now read off the partners, and you can use the remaining five minutes to meet them quickly. Remember, I want a topic for every pair turned in a week from today. Now, Albertson and Addams will be paired together, Benson and Cunningham, Cooley and Craig, Dunn and Erikson, Edwards and Goldsworthy, Jenny and Fisher…"

Dr. Dawes continued to list off names. It seemed as though a lot of the students were second year English majors and were familiar with each other's names. I looked around helplessly lost until Cranky Pants himself dropped down unceremoniously into the empty chair beside me. "The universe has a really shitty sense of humor, don't you think?"

I glanced around the room, almost expecting someone to be standing over my shoulder because it seemed that impossible that Cranky Pants would voluntarily talk to me. Instead of someone breathing down my neck, though, I noticed that nearly everyone else in the room had paired themselves off….

"Okay, I'll bite." I narrowed my eyes skeptically at my rude companion. "What has the universe done that's so darkly comical?"

Cranky Pants smirked, and I tried not to notice the way it made his eyes shimmer with amusement. "Look around, _Edwards_," he emphasized my last name as if he thought I was really slow picking up on something.

My eyes widened a little as things clicked into place. And then I started to giggle, quietly at first, until it escalated into a full-on fit. "Your last name is Goldsworthy, isn't it?"

He nodded, studying me carefully. Finally, his critical expression melted into one of exhaustion. "Look, I'm sorry about snapping at you earlier."

"Thank you." I smiled shyly at him.

"Alright everyone," Dr. Dawes's voice sliced through the chatter of other pairings in the room. "We're out of time for today, so I'll see you on Wednesday. Make sure you read to page 73 in _Jane Eyre_!"

I stood and started to gather my things, swinging my backpack over my shoulder. Goldsworthy fell into step beside me as we left the classroom.

He started talking again, like Dawes hadn't even interrupted. "But that doesn't mean that I suddenly want to be friends or get to know you or whatever. We're partners for a project. We'll do it, get a good grade, and then go our separate ways, okay?" He held the door outside open for me and then stopped walking.

I was about to protest, wonder aloud what I had done to irk him, when I realized that 1.) I really shouldn't care—in fact, it should have pleased me—that this guy wanted to focus on the assignment, and 2.) his attitude probably had nothing to do with me. It didn't have to concern me. "Fine by me," I decided. "Do I at least get a first name to work with, though?"

He shrugged. "Eli."

I nodded and held out my hand to shake. "Clare," I introduced myself. Eli eyed my hand suspiciously for a moment before grabbing on and giving it one firm shake. Then he turned quickly on his heel and stalked off.

I couldn't help but notice, though, the way his jacket had ridden up when he had grabbed my hand. And on his wrist was the beginning of thick, reddish-brown scar that seemed to travel along his vein.

Yeah, his attitude definitely had nothing to do with me, but maybe it _should_ concern me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Seriously, why did I ever stop doing this? It's too much fun. Thank you, friends, for your reviews. As always, your words warm my heart and stroke my ego.**

**I'm trying this thing where I don't let too much time go in between posting new chapters. We'll see if I can keep it up, though. **

"I really have to go now, Mom." I switched my cell over to my other ear, clamping it between my shoulder and my cheek so I could juggle my coffee cup and hike my slipping backpack up my shoulder. "I'm almost to class, okay?"

I was rushing down the student green, practically sprinting for Thaxton Hall, and I felt all out of sorts. I had lost track of time talking to my mother between classes, and I was running later than made me comfortable.

"Oh, what class?"

"College Physics…seriously, I love you, but I have to call you back later. Thank you!" I directed the last part to a generous soul that held the door open for me as I rushed past.

"Alright. Fine. My lunch is over now anyway. I love you, Clare. Call me later!"

With a final promise that I would, and a surge of pity for my mother's obvious separation anxiety, I hung up and quietly slipped into the lecture hall. Since I had only made it a few minutes before class, and there were a good sixty people in the room, I was forced to sit closer to the back.

I was pulling the big, intimidating Physics book out of my backpack, when someone fell clumsily into the chair on my left. "It's my savior!" The cheery voice of Adam shouted in my ear, but it was a welcome shock of noise. "My nose is forever indebted to you, kind one."

"Adam! What are the chances?" I smiled brightly, glancing toward the back of the room when a frightening, older man with a stern, serious expression and a briefcase started stomping his way down the center of the room.

"Are you actually asking? Because I'm afraid I don't have enough information to do that calculation off the top of my head."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "No, I'm not actually asking. So, you're feeling better?" I checked.

Adam opened his mouth to answer, but the professor started to clear his throat menacingly. "I am Dr. Leskov." He spoke with a heavy Russian accent, and I started to have a bad feeling about my future grade in the class. "You will refer to me as such. You can access the syllabus online as this university has recently started berating professors about the environment. If you wish to print out a hard copy then it is on _your_ conscious."

Adam snorted loudly, and several people turned to shoot him a nasty look.

"This is College Physics, section 003. If you fear you are in the wrong place, lucky you. As for the rest of you unfortunate souls, we are going to begin." Dr. Leskov turned on the projector and brought up a power point presentation. He started talking about energy and vectors and velocity, flying through each topic in what I assumed was supposed to be an overview of what we would be studying but really just sounded like a foreign language.

I took as many notes as my hand could manage, but by the time the class period was over I felt like I had carpal tunnel and a headache that might have lasted a month.

"Well wasn't that a nice way to flex the ole brain?" Adam chuckled as he flipped his notebook closed. "Wanna grab some coffee? I don't have another class till 3:30."

I slipped my stuff back into my backpack and glanced at my watch. It was 1:30; we had plenty of time, and I didn't have any more classes. "I'd like that a lot. I'm all out, anyway." I help up my depleted cup as evidence.

"Rad." Adam pumped his fist in the air without even the slightest hint of irony. For a second I had a flash of Imogen and her seemingly unparalleled enthusiasm. My brother, Drew, goes here, and he says the best coffee on campus is this little diner in the basement of the student center called The Dot. Coffee's on me."

"No, no, it's cool." I assured him. "My mom sent me here with plenty of stock for my mini-fridge, so I haven't used my meal plan much. I'm sure a university boy such as yourself needs to be careful lest you consume too much food the first half of the semester and run out of money."

I was joking, but something about what I had said left Adam staring at me with impressed wonder. I was about to ask him if he was okay, but he recovered before I could get the words out. "No, I'm serious. I've got it. Consider it payback for the nose."

Adam ushered me into the student center, and I decided not to put up a fight. We both ordered a drink, Adam paid, and then we settled at one of the retro-themed metal tables. "Thanks," I smiled at my new friend.

"Thanks for being the first cool person I met at university." He raised his cup to me, and I blushed at his sincerity. "So what's your story, She Who Takes Pity on Underdog?"

I rolled my eyes at his flattery. "I don't know…I like to read. I'm an English major. I was valedictorian of my high school class. I'm not really a complex person," I confessed.

Adam chucked. "Simplicity can be a breath a fresh air. Plus, I know firsthand you're selling yourself short."

"Fine, then. Tell me about you. Make yourself come alive for me," I challenged.

"Uh, I am alive," Adam pointed out. I glowered at him playfully. "Fine. Well…yeah…I'm a Computer Science major, which is really just code for super-specialized engineer. I have a stepbrother. I like to play video games. You know, stuff."

"Not so easy to talk about yourself, is it?" Adam shrugged, allowing it.

"Clare Edwards!" A familiar voice called from across the room, and then—suddenly—a grey and pink blur was hurdling toward where Adam and I were sitting. "Hello!" Imogen slammed both of her open palms on the table. I had left the room that morning before she had gotten out of bed, so that was the first time I saw what she was wearing: fishnets, combat boots, and a grey dress with pink kitten ears on Imogen's chest, black whiskers sewn on across Imogen's waist, and big, expressive applique cat eyes. I found myself staring at the face of the cat instead of Imogen for an extended moment.

"Someone knows how to make an entrance." Adam was positively beaming at Imogen.

"Thanks! I'm Imogen Moreno. Who are you?"

"Adam Torres," he replied, his eyes roaming appreciatively in a way that made me smirk. Imogen seemed totally oblivious, though.

"How's it going, roomie?" She had a pastry bag in hand and was spinning the coffee sleeve quickly around her cup.

"Not too badly. How did your choir audition go this morning?"

"Isn't she great?" Imogen turned to smile benevolently at Adam. "She remembered I had an audition this morning!"

"She does seem to be number one when it comes to consideration," Adam nodded earnestly.

"I'm in," Imogen clapped. "And an alto, but I knew that part already."

"Congrats. I figured you'd get it. I heard you in the lounge last night. You sounded really good," I complimented. I didn't mention that—because the lounge was just two rooms down from ours—that I heard her late into the night while I was trying to read…and then later, sleep. She just seemed so easily crushed, and I didn't want to be responsible for doing that squashing.

"Aw, shucks," Imogen blushed. "Thank you, Clare Edwards. Hey! The RAs in our hall are hosting an old school game night on Thursday. There will be board games and Nintendo 64 games and Play Station games, and it will be great. You should go with me!" Imogen got a dreamy eye in her look and started to bounce up and down. "You should bring Adam Torres here, too!"

"You should definitely do that," Adam jumped on the offer.

I glanced from Adam to Imogen, quirking my eyebrow. "Yeah, that sounds fun," I decided.

"Hip hip hurray! Okay, I have to go to my biology class. Bye friends!" Imogen waved frantically for a few seconds before skipping off to the steps. I watched her go for a moment, noticing the tail that hung off the back of her dress.

"Who was that?" Adam asked in awe, his eyes practically falling out of his skull.

"My roommate." He nodded dumbly, still staring off after where Imogen had disappeared. "Oh please, pick your jaw up off the ground."

"Jealous?" Adam waggled his eyebrows suggestively, coming back from his infatuation.

"Am I that transparent?" I quipped.

"It's okay, Clare, don't feel bad. All the ladies have trouble resisting me," he pouted sympathetically.

"Must be the beanie."

"Golden rule of being my friend: never disrespect the beanie."

###

Wednesday, I was woken up early by Imogen's alarm again, and I found myself outside my Women's Lit class a half hour early once more. I had just pulled out my copy of _Jane Eyre_ and my notebook to brush up on my notes before the lecture and discussion when Eli folded himself into sitting position on the ground next to me.

"Do you have anything going on Friday after three?" he asked without preamble.

I considered the question for a moment. "Nope. Why?"

"Would you want to meet in the library to research a topic for our project?"

"Sounds good," I agreed. I pulled my planner out of my backpack and scribbled a note in the box for that approaching Friday.

"Seriously?" Eli scoffed.

"What?" I got on the defense right away, prickling at his tone.

"I have never seen anyone more anal retentive in my life." He was smirking wickedly, and I kind of wanted to slap him. Just a little.

"I'm certain I have no idea what you're talking about." I turned my nose up at him.

"Wow…did you really use those absurd post-it strip things to mark pages in the reading? Did you highlight, too?" He was getting way too much enjoyment out of this.

"I'm a driven student, okay? Make fun all you want, but someday all my hard work will pay off and I will laugh in your face."

"_Ouch_," Eli emphasized the word sarcastically. "You do know you're an English major, right?"

"Yeah, and I'm sure you're majoring in something sensible like medicine." I eyed the journal in his hands scornfully. Eli chuckled and eyed me with a subdued appreciation—like he hadn't been expecting I was capable of being witty. "Wait," I realized something belatedly. "How did you know I am an English major?"

Eli looked caught off guard for a moment, and his cheeks reddened ever so slightly. Catching himself quickly, he smirked derisively. "Lucky guess, I suppose. It's not like it was that hard to deduce."

"Whatever." I scoffed, feeling oddly affected by the conversation and his sitting so close next to me. It made me squirm. I tried to start a game of You Don't Exist by turning back to my notes with a laser focus, but I lost pretty quickly as Eli Goldsworthy reached over and plucked my copy of _Jane Eyre_ out of lap. "Hey!" I protested, quickly shoving my notebook back in my bag lest he go after that next.

"I just want to know what you found important enough to highlight." Eli was practically _glowing_ with sick delight.

"Please don't tell me you are one of those guys who takes classes about women's right and importance just to lord the fact that you are an ignorant white man over everyone's heads."

He looked genuinely upset by my comment, and I flushed with chagrin immediately. He tossed the book back at me and sat back. "Well, you certainly know how to put a guy in his place," Eli laughed darkly. "Consider me properly abashed."

I smiled at his use of the word abashed in casual conversation. "Good."

He smiled back at me, ever so slightly, and then, with a mock-serious expression, he raised his fist and shouted, "Feminism!"

I giggled as a group of students talking at the end of the hall shot Eli looks of skepticism and annoyance. He cocked his eyebrow at me, and I couldn't help but notice that he looked quite attractive.

"Consider us even." I graced him with a smirk of my own, and Eli nodded, pleased.

###

Friday afternoon, Adam and I walked into the library. We had gotten lunch together, and the night before he had come with Imogen and me to our hall's game night. He was fast becoming my best friend, and when I had told him about Eli and all his strange behavior—leaving out the hint of scar that I had seen on Eli's wrist—Adam had waggled his eyes suggestively and claimed that he definitely had to meet the guy.

"All I'm saying is if you're going to interrogate Eli because I maybe flirted with him once, then I get to say suggestive things to Imogen about you when you're not around."

"Why? Do you think she'd be receptive to that?" Adam asked seriously.

Jokingly, I shoved his shoulder, and Adam winced, letting out a little whimper. "Whoa, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Adam promised. But his face hadn't relaxed; there was still a tiny grimace of pain.

"Did…did those guys find you again?" I asked under my breath.

"Well, I mean, they didn't have to look very hard. One of them is my roommate—the big guy with the stupid hair and bushy eyebrows? Yeah, his name is Owen."

"What?" My voice flew up a couple octaves with concern. "You live with one of those goons? Adam, that's awful! We have to do something about it. Is he hurting you?" My body was quivering with worry and rage as we settled into two of the cushy chairs off to the side of the entrance to wait for Eli.

"Clare, calm down." Adam rolled his eyes. "We got into a fight, but it's no big deal. I ate some of his food, he was angry, it was stupid." He was being all too nonchalant about the whole thing, and it felt wrong to me. But if Adam didn't want me to worry about it, I should let him handle it, right?

"Alright, fine," I nodded, "but if you need anything you know you can tell me."

"I know." Adam smiled kindly.

"And you should still look into getting moved," I protested under my breath.

Adam rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but Eli approached just then. "Um, hi," he looked uncomfortably between Adam and me. "You, uh, brought a friend?"

"You're quite the charmer with your words, huh?" Adam cocked an eyebrow at Eli.

"Every sentence I speak is a stunning display of verbal acuity, yes."

Adam laughed loudly, earning a dirty look from the guy at the info desk and a small smile from Eli. I figured that was a good a time as any to jump in. "Eli, this is my friend, Adam. Adam, this is my English partner, Eli."

"It's nice to meet you, man." Adam held up his fist for a bump, and Eli amiably reciprocated.

"Likewise." There were a few seconds of weird silence in which no one could really decide how to proceed. Then, Eli asked, "So, have you known Clare a long time?"

"Only since I knocked her out, like, a week ago. Is that a Dead Hand shirt?"

Eli had looked as though he was going to ask Adam to elaborate, but the boys switched gears quickly. "Yeah—it's from their reunion tour back in 2012."

"Fuck, I am so jealous right now! I wanted to go to that so badly, but…," Adam trailed off with a flush. "I couldn't."

"I have Eric Rothman's drumsticks from the show. And my dad's a DJ, so I got the concert DVD for free." Adam's eyes were sparkling with jealousy and desire. "You could come over sometime—it's been a while since I've watched it."

"Dude, are you serious?" Eli nodded. "Awesome. Here, give me your number. I'll text you." Adam handed over his phone, and Eli quickly punched in a number. "Cool," Adam smiled. "Well, I should probably get going, but I'll see you around, Eli. Bye Clare!"

I waved, and as Eli was taking Adam's place in the chair beside me, Adam turned to give me a discreet thumbs up and to mouth an "I APPROVE."

I stuck my tongue out and shooed him away. "So he's a cool kid," Eli chuckled. "Did he say that he knocked you out?"

"Yes, yes he did," I chuckled. "Want to go up to the fourth floor? I think that's where the computer lab is."

Eli agreed and we headed for the elevators. "So are you going to make me beg you for the full story, or what?"

I considered that. "It might be fun to watch…why not?" Eli glared at me until I held up my hands in surrender. "I was just kidding. There isn't much to tell. Some guys were harassing him, they pushed him into me, it gave him a bloody nose, and I helped clean him up. The end."

"Do wounded people flock to you or something?"

The elevator stopped at the fourth floor, and we both got off. "I don't understand the question?" I wrinkled my nose at him.

"Good."

When he didn't go on, I decided not to push. I was already kind of exhausted with playing his weird mind games. Instead, I switched gears into the reason we were there; after all, according to Eli we were going to do this project and go our separate ways. "So, I was doing some reading, and I think that if we do our project on an individual woman instead of a theory, we could still mention any theoretical contribution the woman made. I found this French poet who was also a philosopher and theorist."

"Helene Cixous?" Eli guessed, setting his bag down at a computer. I pulled over a chair, and sat next to him. We sort of had to crowd in around the study carrel, and our knees bumped. Eli didn't move his out of the way, so I didn't either, hyper aware of our sudden proximity.

"Yeah, that's the one." I smiled.

"She's pretty cool, but Dawes is kind of Cixous scholar. Not only does kissing ass to get a good grade not appeal to me, Cixous is kind of dense and Dawes would know for sure if we said something wrong." He didn't speak harshly, more like he was trying to let me down gently.

"Fair enough," I deflated. "Well, do you have any ideas?"

Eli tapped at the keyboard of the computer, lost in thought. "Hmm…I've always been a pretty big fan of Sylvia Plath."

"She did have the trifecta: deep, dark, and depressed."

Eli chuckled. "Exactly. What do you say, Edwards? Want to dive into some Plath with me?"

Our knees were still touching, and he was smiling excitedly at me, and though I knew we had agreed to focus on the project, but the way he asked the question made me tingly with excitement. "Definitely," I beamed back at him.

Eli searched Sylvia Plath, and we did some quick reading on her life. It didn't take us too long to gather enough information to write the formal proposal. "Look this over, please?" Eli tilted the screen over toward me and I leaned in to make sure everything looked grammatically correct.

He leaned back, stretching out his arms over his head, and I couldn't help but take note of the way his shirt rid up just a little to show a strip of skin. I flushed a deep red. "It looks good to me," I cleared my throat, trying to sound normal.

Eli noticed where my eyes had landed, and quirked an eyebrow at me, subtly fixing his shirt. Neither of us said anything as he printed our proposal out. When I got back from retrieving the sheet from the printer, Eli had packed up his things and looked ready to go. "I have to get to work now," he explained. I nodded, grabbing my own stuff. "Um, you know, if Adam comes over—I don't know if you like Dead Hand—but you're welcome, too."

"Thanks," I flushed with pleasure, trying not to smile too widely.

Nervously tugging his sleeves over his palms, Eli nodded. "Alright. Well…see you around, then."

"I guess you will," I replied, giggly from all the stupid awkward tension between us.


	3. Chapter 3

**A huge thank you to everyone who has read and commented; I feel really humbled reading all your sweet feedback. This story is most likely going to be seven or eight chapters, in case anyone was wondering. **

**This chapter is a bit long, and I'm sorry it's so delayed. I had a lot of papers and midterms, and no time to creatively write.**

**Now, on with the show!**

Thursday evening of the next week, I found myself sitting on the floor of Eli's single room with him and Adam. Outside, an early September thunderstorm was in full swing, the building creaking from the strong winds every few seconds. Eli had his window cracked, a towel lodged in the open space to catch most of the water, so the smell of warm rain had totally filled the tiny room.

And what a strange room it was. Eli had covered every inch of the walls with posters and photographs, and the effect was a little dizzying. I had to admit, though, it was much homier and interesting than the mostly plain, off-white walls of my own room. Eli's room ceased to feel like a dorm—it was like falling into a rabbit hole and turning up in Eli's own, personal world.

"This is a cinematic masterpiece," Adam muttered in awe for what felt like the millionth time. Eli's bed was lofted up high, and he had a futon positioned in the space underneath, facing his desk where his laptop was set and playing the Dead Hand reunion tour DVD.

Adam had very subtly—and by that I mean totally obviously—found a way to wedge me in the middle of him and Eli. This meant that, in order to talk to Adam, Eli was continuously leaning over me. "Man, it's like you are actually incapable of shutting up."

"This is just so cool." Adam was completely unfazed—enraptured by the action on the screen—and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"I think we've lost him," I stage whispered to Eli. Adam raised his middle finger at me.

"Resorting to violence is never the answer," Eli clucked his tongue at Adam.

"You two suck." Adam waved us off, never tearing his eyes away from Eli's laptop where the band had just finished telling some origin story about a song before starting to play again.

Lowering his voice, Eli whispered in my ear, "So what do you think of Dead Hand so far?"

I shivered as his breath fanned across my neck, raising tiny goose bumps of excitement. "They are a band," I observed teasingly.

"The best band ever," Adam grumbled.

I took advantage of the fact that Adam wasn't wearing a beanie and mussed his hair before turning back to answer Eli honestly. "They're decent, I guess. Not my usual style, but I like them."

"High praise," Eli mocked. "What is Clare's usual style? Taylor Swift? Katy Perry? No, don't tell me…you like Nickelback, don't you?"

I gasped, my mouth falling open in horror. "Do you really think that little of me?"

"Yeah, don't insult Clare like that," Adam piped up, his eyes still never leaving the screen.

Eli chuckled. "I'm just checking. I mean, if I'm going to be spending time with you in the public's eye I want to make sure my reputation is not in danger."

"Of course; I wouldn't want to soil your reputation as university badass."

"Exactly! I'm so relieved you understand."

"Would you two shut up?" Adam pled. "I am trying to watch the best band in the universe perform live together for presumably the last time, and you're flirting louder that the laptop volume will go."

I laughed at the petulance in Adam's voice, and I noticed that Eli was flushed. He started to tug at his long sleeves—something I noticed he did when he was nervous—stretching them out so that they hung well past his fingertips.

"Scout's Honor that I'll be quiet," I held up my three fingers to show my commitment.

"Of course you were a Girl Scout." Eli smirked, wicked delight in his eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I challenged, but before Eli could answer, Adam shot him a withering look. Eli made a show of pretending to lock the padlock on his lips.

A peal of thunder shook the building then, making me jump. Tentatively, Eli placed his hand on my upper back, the warmth of his palm seeping through my shirt, and started to rub small, soothing circles. I relaxed into his touch, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. With similar hesitance, I let my hand fall between us where our thighs were just shy of touching. My fingers brushed the rough denim of Eli's dark jeans just above his knee.

We remained in that position for a few tense minutes, my breath coming in weird spurts, until Adam unexpectedly broke the silence, making Eli and I jump—ceasing all contact immediately. "Okay, now you guys are too quiet and it's just weird."

"There is just no pleasing you, is there?" Eli glared playfully at Adam.

"Nope," Adam stuck his tongue out.

"This is the last song anyway," Eli noted. "I could always sing along if you miss the sound of my voice so much."

"Please, for the love of all that is holy, do not." Adam got down on his knees in front of the futon to actually beg Eli.

"I see you pattern, and I can match it!" Eli started to squeal out, his voice in a grating falsetto.

"Oh, God, I will pay you to stop doing that." I giggled, placing my hand over Eli's mouth. He, being the mature 20 year old he was, started to lick my palm. "You don't know where that's been," I pointed out. Eli kept licking until I couldn't stand it anymore; I had to pull away. "Gross," I sneered.

I wiped my slobbery palm across his chest. Eli gently shoved me away. "Get out of here with those germs," he complained teasingly.

"Yeah, your saliva's gross, isn't it?"

"Seriously. You two, I am right here…in the room…_next to you_."

"You want some action, too, buddy?" Eli teased, puckering his lips at Adam.

"Unless you suddenly start wearing dresses with cat tails, sing in the campus choir, like old school video games, and talk in adorable non-sequiturs, I'm not interested. Although you do have very kissable lips, and I regret having to turn you down." Adam placed a hand over his heart with sarcastic devastation.

Eli looked confused, though. "You have a crush Imogen Moreno?"

"Hell yeah! Wait… you know her?"

"I had to take a Fine Arts credit, and I ended up in a theater class with her last fall. We're kind of friends." Eli's face was flaming, and I wondered if there was more to the story. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and the DVD title menu started to play though another loop.

"Are you okay, Captain Moody?" Adam cocked an eyebrow at Eli, and I giggled.

"I hope you know I'm going to refer to you as Captain Moody from this day forth. It has been decreed." I announced gleefully.

Eli glared at me for a moment. "Shall I bring Saint Clare back to life?"

Blood flooded my face. "I told you about that in confidence!"

"Then play nice," Eli pouted, and I raised my hands in surrender.

"Hey, flirty flirts, can you guys focus for, like, five minutes. Eli, can you put in a good word for me with Imogen?"

"Adam, man, I'd love to help you out. I would. But I don't think Imogen would take too kindly to me talking up other guys to her."

"Why?" I asked before Adam could, suddenly sure I didn't really want to know the answer.

"What, are you two practicing to be the Spanish Inquisition for Halloween?"

"Lame comeback," Adam pointed out breezily. "Why are you avoiding the answer?"

"Because it's complicated, and I don't want to talk about it."

That seemed to be Eli's default answer whenever I asked him about something personal, and I bristled. "You must lead a very complicated life, Mr. Goldsworthy." I said pointedly.

"You have no idea," Eli mumbled under his breath.

"We could, if you let us," I pointed out.

Eli glanced up at me, a wounded puppy look in his eyes, and I met his gaze with steely determination. He hadn't exactly been resilient when it came to his I-don't-want-to-be-friends, I-have-a-rough-and-tough-exterior first impression. But he also hadn't really charged forward with cheer, either, and it was driving me crazy.

"It's just, we dated. And I wasn't…what she needed. It wasn't a bad break up or anything, we both agreed that it didn't work, but we try to avoid talking about our personal lives because it's weird. I don't know if she would be too receptive to me, you know, throwing your name around. That is, if she understood what I was doing; Imogen doesn't do subtle."

"You know, I noticed that," Adam smirked, his eyes dreamy.

"Happy?" Eli turned to me. His voice was laced with hardness, but his expression was looking for a real answer.

"For now," I teased, mostly relieved that anything he might have had with Imogen was over. He rolled his eyes.

Adam glanced at his watch and then jumped up off the futon. "Holy mackerel!" He exclaimed and started to gather his stuff.

"You know, the more I think about it, you and Imogen would make one hell of a couple." Eli smirked.

"I have a 7:45 lab and it's 12:30. I have to go, moron. You coming Clare? I can walk you back to your dorm."

"Look at you, all chivalrous." Eli stood and stretched before moving to take the DVD out of his laptop.

"Don't be so sure," I giggled, grabbing my keys. "He's just hoping Imogen will be there so he can sneak in a couple minutes of flirting before bed."

Adam slung an arm over my shoulder. "Look at that. She's only known me for two weeks, and she has me totally figured out. She's, like, super human or something."

"Maybe you're just predictable," I pointed out, donning my rain jacket and pulling up the hood. "Thanks for having us over," I smiled at Eli.

"And she has manners that would make a nun glow," Eli addressed Adam as though I was not there.

"You two are insufferable."

"And yet you choose to suffer through our company, so what does that say about you?" Adam reached over to pull my hood down and give my hair a good ruffle.

"You've been waiting to get me back, haven't you?"

"Yup! But, seriously dude," Adam thumped Eli on the shoulder, "let's hang again soon."

"Definitely. We could get together this weekend." Eli responded, glancing at me from under his lashes.

"I'm going home this weekend…because, you know, it's long. And my mom is—I'm going home."

"Oh. Well some other time, then." I hoped that I wasn't reading too far into anything, but it seemed like Eli was disappointed.

I nodded, and we stood there awkwardly for a few beats.

"Well, alrighty then," Adam clapped his hands together. "We should get going. I'll text you!" Adam called as we started down the hall to the elevators. As soon as we heard Eli's door shut, Adam started to assault me with pokes. "You looooove him."

I shoved him away. "Shut up; you're the one who used the phrase 'adorable non-sequiturs.'"

We got in the elevator and the doors slid closed behind us. "You're not denying it."

"Because you're a pest. If I ignore you, you're supposed to go away."

"How's that working?"

"It's a process."

"As if you actually want me gone," Adam scoffed.

"Nah," I agreed. Adam's smile dwarfed his face with its enormity.

###

Late Friday evening, my dad pulled into the lot outside my dorm. I picked up my backpack from the floor, slung it over my shoulder, and then made a valiant attempt to lift my bag of laundry.

"Need some help there, Clare-bear?" Dad asked as he approached, twirling his keys on his finger, his tie loose around his neck and his hair a little out of sorts.

"Yeah, thanks. Hi, Dad." We hugged briefly, and then he hefted my bag over his shoulder. We walked to the car, loaded up, and then I slid into the passenger seat, book in hand. As I was buckling up, my dad slid into the driver's seat and started the car.

"Sorry I'm so late. Things were crazy at the office, and you know if I don't meet my paperwork goals for the day, it'll swallow me and my desk whole."

I laughed it off, trying not dwell on the uncomfortable twist in my stomach that told me he wasn't telling the whole truth. "It's alright. I always have plenty of reading to do for classes."

"I bet. What is that you have there?" he nodded toward the book in my lap, merging onto the freeway.

"_The Bell Jar_; it's for my Women's Lit class. We're doing partner projects, and my partner and I are doing Plath, so I figured I had better brush up on her work."

"Neat." Dad smiled at me, but he sounded disinterested. "How are your other classes?"

"Physics is hard, but my friend Adam is helping me out. Overall, everything is going well. I like university, for the most part."

"Good, good. I'm glad you're adjusting, Clare-bear."

"Uh-huh." My eyebrows came together. "How's Mom?"

"You know, she's busy, too. We haven't had a lot of time to spend together lately."

My stomach clenched again. "Oh, okay." And then we fell into an uncomfortable silence that made me all squirmy on the inside. I turned my attention to the book, trying to focus on the story, but I ended up staring vacantly out the window instead, watching the trees blur together as we raced past them.

###

As soon as I walked in the door, my mom's arms were trying to surround me in an awkward embrace, my backpack complicating things. "Oh, Clare, honey, I missed you so much."

I hugged her back, breathing in her familiar scent of lemons and fabric softener. "I missed you, too, Mom."

"Come on, Helen, let us in." Dad's condescending tone sent prickles across the back of my neck. "Clare's laundry is quite heavy."

"Oh, yes, sorry. Come in, come in!" She ushered me into the kitchen, taking my bags from me and plopping me in a chair at the table. "I made all your favorites. And some chocolate chip cookies. Are you thirsty? I could make coffee or tea."

"Whoa, Mom, slow down." I laughed. "Let me breathe."

She smiled fondly at me, and comfortingly brushed a stray curl back from my face. "Of course. I'm just so happy that you're home."

"I've only been away for a couple of weeks." I pointed out, but I couldn't help feeling thrilled at the warm welcome from her. After the awkward car ride with my dad, it was nice to be around a parent that seemed to genuinely want me around. "And it's only a forty-five minute drive: you should come out for lunch sometime."

"Maybe this coming week," she agreed, lighting up.

"Helen, it's late. I think I'm going to tuck in." My dad came into the conversation, placing his large hands on my shoulders and squeezing. I tried not to tense up.

My mother's eyes flashed. "Randall," her tone was brimming with fake cheeriness, "we talked about this. I've been cooking all afternoon, and we are going to have a nice, family dinner."

My dad raised an eyebrow, looking decidedly unhappy, but he didn't put up an argument. "Fine. But we should get started. I have to go into the office early tomorrow."

"What? Tomorrow is Saturday." Mom clipped off the end of every word.

"Yes, and I _told_ you that we were in the middle of a huge case, Helen. I have to go in."

My mother's nostrils flared, and she opened her mouth to speak. I—having been the object of my mother's wrath on occasion—could tell that she was about to start yelling. I coughed lightly, shifting in my seat, and she glanced at me. Her expression softened a little. "We will discuss this later."

"There isn't anything to discuss. The firm—,"

"Later," she promised ominously, cutting him off. With that, she turned and went into the kitchen.

"Do you need help?" I called out to her.

"No, thank you, sweetie, you just relax."

I sat back in my chair, trying to avoid my dad's eye. Mom came back in with a plate of steaming green beans and a pitcher of lemonade. She retreated back to the kitchen only to return with wild rice and seasoned salmon. "Wow, Mom, thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm just glad to have you home for a visit. Would you like to do the honors?" she asked, holding out her hands for me and Dad to take.

"Sure. Um," I was a bit rusty for having given up praying before every meal. "Bless us, O Lord, and these your gifts, which we are about to receive from your bounty. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."

I released my parents' hands, and started to pour myself a glass of lemonade. "So," Mom smiled brightly, scooping green beans onto her plate, "tell us everything."

Between mouthfuls of food, I gave my mom—in painstaking detail—the scoop on all my classes, the food, how I was doing, Imogen, and Adam. Something told me that my conservative mother and father wouldn't be too pleased to hear too much about Eli. Not that I had too much to say, but—call it instinct—I figured they would be skittish at best at even the smallest details.

Thankfully, my endless chatter about school kept there from being any seriously awkward or long pauses. In fact, by the end I had started to convince myself that everything was normal. Of course nothing was wrong. My parents had always both been really opinionated, strong-willed and that lead to a lot of casual-but-heated arguments that were always resolved eventually.

This was just a rough patch. They would make up.

After, over cookies and milk, Dad had finished making us laugh with a story about a couple of the interns they had at the office, my mom turned to me. "You're probably tired, sweetheart. I'm sure you've had a long week, and it'll probably be nice to sleep in your own bed. Plus, I was hoping you'd take the trip to the farmer's market with me tomorrow morning."

"Sure thing, Mom. That sounds fun." I gave her a smile before grabbing my bags and making my way back to my room. It was weird being in it when so much of the stuff was missing.

I took a quick shower, found an old t-shirt and shorts that I had left behind for the year, and then settled into bed with my laptop. I had just finished sending out some e-mails when my cell phone started to rattle on my bedside table: Adam.

"Hey, buddy," I answered, a smile in my voice. "What's up?"

"I was just calling to see how home was treating you," he replied.

"Oh, well, it was a little weird at first, but it's good to be back."

"Cool. I'm bored, entertain me."

"Okay…did you know that Sylvia Plath was published by age nine?"

"God, is thinking about Eli all you ever do?"

"Excuse me, how was that about Eli?"

"It was about your English Project."

I rolled my eyes. "It was indirectly about Eli, I suppose. And, excuse me, mister, but if you don't like the way I entertain, why don't you go find someone physically there? Imogen, perhaps?"

"I already tried that," Adam admitted sheepishly. "I practiced this stupid speech in the mirror for hours, and I had this grand adventure planned. But she had gone home, too."

"Oh, so I'm your second choice," I pouted.

"Did you not hear what I just said? Console me!" he demanded.

I was about to say something when, suddenly I heard my mother screech, "You promised me we would talk about this!" I tensed, holding the phone away from my ear so I could strain to catch what came next. I could only make out my mother's edgy hisses and my dad's low rumbling—no individual words.

"Clare, are you still there?" Adam's voice carried softly up from where I had dropped my hands into my lap.

I quickly brought my phone back up to my ear. "Um, sorry, I have to go."

"Is everything okay?" Concern was thick in his voice.

"Don't know; gotta go. I'll talk to you later. 'Night, Adam."

I slipped out of my bed and crept over to the door. I cracked it and tried to listen intently, but I could still only make out a few words…nothing that made sense. I swallowed over the lump in my throat, and crawled back into bed.

If I tried hard enough, I could fall asleep before I had the chance to really think about what was going on.

###

She didn't say anything about the fight while we walked up and down the aisles of people selling fresh, brightly colored fruits and vegetables. Instead, she prodded me for more information on Adam and my favorite teachers. I told her about how Dr. Dawes was really intimidating, but also someone I really respected. I told her I was scared of my Physics professor.

I played along with her game so that I didn't have to say anything about the fighting either.

We left the market around 9:30 with a bit of spoils for me to take back to school and plenty of fresh ingredients for some vegetable lasagna recipe my mom wanted to try out.

As we were getting in the car, my mom patted my leg excitedly. "You know what we should do?"

"What?" I asked with a smile, warming to the excitement in her voice.

"We should pick up your dad and go out to Benny's Diner like we used to do on the weekends after church when you and Darcy were younger. I didn't hear him eat this morning; I bet it would be a welcome surprise."

She was smiling so widely, her enthusiasm infectious, that I couldn't help but agree. "Sounds awesome! Let's do it."

As my mom headed home so we could unload our perishables, I dwelled on the fact that maybe it really, truly was nothing. Maybe I had been right at dinner. Things were just a little rocky, but clearly my mom was making efforts to work it out. Maybe Dad was, too.

When we finally got to the office, my mom tried calling my dad's cell and office phones a couple times each. When he didn't answer, the worry lines around Mom's mouth got deeper and deeper. "I'll just run in and get him, then." Mom said as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

I waited in the car, fiddling with my cross necklace, my stomach tightening. Something wasn't right. There weren't a lot of cars in the parking lot. Usually, if the firm had a lot going on, more people picked up weekend hours to stay on track.

After fifteen minutes passed and neither of my parents came out to the car, I started to feel seriously off. I was just about to get out of the car and find my own way into the building when Mom pushed through the front door, a determinedly calm mask on her face.

"Mom?" I questioned as she got into the car again. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is great. Your dad is too busy to come. It's just you and me."

"What happened in there? What took you so long?"

"It's nothing, Clare!" My mom's voice strained against the words. "Let's drop it."

I stared out the window, not knowing what to think.

After a few silent minutes, my mom spoke up. "You know, I forgot that I promised Irene that I would go antiquing with her this evening. And Grandma and I are helping with the church bake sale all day tomorrow. I know you came home to spend time with us, but I'm sure you have a lot of homework. I think I should probably just take you back to school, huh?"

"W-what?" I was stunned.

"It's just, this isn't a good weekend. I'll come for lunch sometime. I think you need to go back to school, though."

"Mom, are you okay?"

"I mean, this is your first semester of university. Of course that's overwhelming. It'll be better for you to stay ahead. You have a lot of homework, don't you, sweetie?"

"Y-yeah, tons." I slumped back in my seat.

"Great. It's settled then. I'll just pack you up a care package and take you back."

"Sure. Settled," I agreed, a throbbing headache suddenly pounding on my temples.

###

"I'll call you tomorrow after the sale," Mom promised as I stood by the driver's side window. "I love you, Clare."

"I love you, too, Mom."

She pulled out of the parking lot, waving out of her open window. I stood where I was, watching her car till it disappeared. I felt like my brain was suddenly filled with white noise, and I had the overwhelming urge to scream.

Instead, I trudged silently up to my room. My first weekend at university had brought a lot of chatter and energy to the halls of the dorms. Now, everything was eerily silent, most people away at home.

After a couple hours in my room, alone, trying to get work done, I even started to crave the obnoxious repetition of Imogen's warm up vocals, or the constant, bouncy sound of show tunes that she usually kept on when she was in the room.

Instead, I still had white noise drowning everything else in my brain.

Fueled by some off-kilter energy, I got dressed in a turquoise, scoop neck sweater and some of my nice, darker jeans. Keys and phone tucked into my front pocket, I started off around campus, watching as the light slowly leaked out of the day.

When I reached Ripley Hall, I caught the door from some guy in a leather jacket and took the stairs up to the third floor. Room 319. I knocked.

"One second," a groggy voice called, and I heard the creak of wood, like someone was climbing down from bed. The door swung open a few moments later. "Clare? I thought you were home for the weekend."

"Change of plans: let's go out!"

"Out?" Eli asked skeptically, though his eyes roamed quickly over my outfit.

"Yeah. I want to go to my first university party. Come with me!"

"I'm not really a party type," Eli pointed out, a sneer in his voice. He had on a t-shirt and some plaid pajama bottoms. He rubbed at his wrists nervously, the expanse of his hand almost covering up the entirety of his scar…but not quite.

"Come on where's your sense of adventure?"

"Must have left it under my bed at home along with my faith in humanity."

"And your sense of humor," I teased. "Please, Eli. I had a bad day, and I just want to get out of my head."

He seemed disarmed by my honestly, slumping in defeat. "Your pouty face is a weapon of mass destruction, Edwards."

I smirked at him. "I'm accepting that as your surrender to this evening."

He rolled his eyes, but opened the door to let me in. "Just let me change."

I sat down on his futon, making a pointed effort to evade my eyes as Eli tugged on a pair of skinny jeans, grabbed a t-shirt for a band called The Fratellis, and left a grey button down open on top of that.

I stood when he was ready, and he cocked an eyebrow at me. "So," I trailed off. "How does this work?"

"You don't get out much, do you?" Eli teased.

"Look who's talking. You give Emily Dickenson a run for her money."

"I bet those literary jokes will kill at parties. Let's go."

I followed him out of the room and to the stairs. "But I don't know where to go."

"We'll just take a walk down University Street," Eli shrugged. "We're bound to find a party somewhere. It is a Saturday night."

I relaxed, happy that I chose the right person to venture out into the great unknown with. He was like my college life guide, there to teach me about the finer points of letting loose.

"Hey, let's get some alcohol!" Eli started to laugh so loudly the night seemed to throw the sound into the far corners of the student green. "What's so funny?" I scowled.

Eli made a pointed effort to stop laughing when he saw my serious face. "Oh, uh, you weren't kidding. You just don't strike me as the using-alcohol-to-solve-my-problems type." He eyed my necklace out of the corner of his eye.

I got on the defense. "How closed minded is that?" I accused. "Oh, Clare Edwards is religious so she is obviously a stuck up, self-righteous prude, too."

Eli rolled his eyes. "Not exactly what I meant, but, hey, I'm not in charge of you. If you want some alcohol, we'll stop at a convenience store on the way."

"I don't turn nineteen till February," I confessed.

"Oh boy," Eli shook his head. "Underage drinking: we're getting' rebellious now."

"I'll give you the money…."

"No, no; it's on me. Consider it my contribution to your maiden university voyage."

I didn't put up a further argument, and we crossed the street, officially off campus. Eli quickly stepped into a store and came back out with a bottle of cheap vodka. He handed it to me with only one word: "Careful."

"I'll be fine," I lied confidently, untwisting the cap. "To you, Eli Goldsworthy," I toasted as we started down a side street. It was completely dark out, and I took a quick swig. It was really strong, and it burned my nose and made my eyes water; I nearly spit it out. But I forced myself to swallow it down before I could think too hard about what I was doing. "Gah, yeesh."

"I told you to be careful," Eli's voice was smug, but I could see the concern in the way he was eyeing me funny.

"Yes, Captain Moody," I saluted him, and took another swig.

"How many times have you drunk before?" Eli asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I always chose the grape juice at church," I confessed.

Eli unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile. We walked in silence, the street we were on was fairly quiet. I took another drink. "Can I ask you a question?" Eli asked suddenly as we turned on to University Street.

"I don't know. You sure _seem_ like a dashing, capable young man." I giggled. I felt a little warm, my cheeks flushed.

Eli shook his head. "Lightweight." I tried to elbow him in the side, but misjudged the distance between us and nearly fell over. After Eli righted me, he continued. "What happened at home? Why are you back so early?"

"That's two questions," I sing-songed.

"Clare, I'm serious," he huffed. "This just doesn't seem like you."

"Look! They're alive!" I cried, pointing to a house near the end of the street that was lit up. Music was pumping loudly, and it seemed like several people had spilled out of the house and onto the front porch. A party for sure.

I started off skipping down the street, but not before hearing Eli mumble something about deflection. Taking another huge swig, the world suddenly seemed so simple. I felt…melty. Like the rest of the world couldn't possibly matter at a time like this. There was a guy hanging out next to the door with a stack of red cups. "Single ladies get in for free," he smiled at me, and my skin crawled a little. "But it's two dollars a cup for guys," he started down Eli.

"Designated Driver," Eli held up his hands, a smug smirk on his face. The guy didn't seem too pleased, but he waved us past anyway.

"We didn't drive here," I pointed out.

"If you keep going at the rate you are," Eli gave me a pointed look as I took another harsh swig of the vodka, "someone is going to need to make sure you get home safely. Besides, I don't drink. Not supposed to."

There were a lot of bodies packed into not a too big space. There was some room to walk around, but not much. The air was sticky with humidity and the smell of alcohol, and I could feel the bass rattle my organs—or at least that's what it felt like. I had to strain my ear to catch what Eli was saying, and even then I wasn't totally sure I had caught everything. "Dance time!" I declared.

I held out my hand, but Eli shook his head. Unable to be bothered by anything with so much awesome alcohol in my bloodstream, I shrugged. After taking one last sip of the vodka, I handed the bottle and cap over to Eli.

Scanning the room, I relaxed my body and let it go along with the beat. My hips started to swing in a small circle. I spotted a cute guy standing off to the side, and went up to him.

"I'm Clare," I yelled over the music.

The guy looked down at me, his eyes focusing on my face, then lower, then my face again. He smiled sweetly. Hey, he had really nice teeth. "Mike, Mike Dallas," he introduced himself.

"Let's dance!" I surprised even myself with the sharpness of my blunt behavior. Mike didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, he looked thrilled as he followed me through the crowded room. My body felt loose, and my mind was filled with a more pleasant softness—no more white noise. I let Mike take the lead, his hands spread out over my hips, and we started to dance.

And for a couple songs it seemed perfectly innocent and comfortable. I was dancing, Mike was swaying with me, and his hands stayed pretty respectful. Soon, though, they found their way to my backside, making me tense a little. "I should go to the bathroom!" I shouted at his ear.

"No, no…stay here with me," his fingers squeezed possessively and he tugged me closer to him. I was suddenly too dizzy to know where his face was, but I wanted to slap him really hard.

I squeezed my eyes shut. "I feel sick," I said quietly to no one in particular, trying to pretend nothing but me existed anymore.

"Leave her alone," Eli's voice suddenly filled my ears and my chest flooded with relief. I opened my eyes in time to see Eli shove Mike away, and then his arm was around my waist. The coolness of his fingers seeped into the fabric of my sweater, a welcome sensation to combat my sudden over-heatedness.

"I am very drunk," I observed.

"I noticed." Eli grumbled as he walked me off the porch. "This was a grand adventure, but I think you've had about all the partying you can take for one night. I'm taking you home."

"He was gross. I should have hit him."

"I can't say he wouldn't deserve it," Eli nodded, supporting most of my weight as we started to sloppily walk down the street.

"I think my dad is cheating on my mom."

Eli stopped moving suddenly. He looked me in the eye, and I suddenly felt shame prickle over my skin. He was just so…he was looking at me with a lot of pity. "Clare, I'm sorry."

"Stop feeling bad for me," I spat, suddenly feeling bitterness flood my system. I tried to storm off, but I was still shaky on my feet, and Eli caught me easily, trying to guide my steps. "My dad's been a total jerk, and my mom is so obviously hurt, but I just sit there and watch it, you know? I should say something. But I don't. I just let it happen."

"Whatever is going on is not your fault, Clare."

"Isn't it? My gut keeps telling me something is wrong, and I will do anything to shut it up."

"I got a nice little demonstration of that tonight, yeah," Eli sighed.

We were both silent for a while, just walking along. We made it on to campus, and, suddenly, I was certain that I was going to puke. "I think I'm gonna…."

I didn't have a chance to finish before I leaned into a bush and started to wretch. "Shit," Eli said as I emptied the contents of my stomach. It burned just as much the second time around, the alcohol did: maybe more.

"I think I'm done now," I leaned into Eli's chest tiredly.

"We'll see about that," I could hear the cringe in his voice. "Let's just get you home."

We started walking again. "I meant I think I'm done with alcohol now."

"Oh," Eli suppressed a chuckle. "Probably a good idea."

Several minutes and two more stops to heave later, Eli and I stopped in front of my door. Weakly, I handed over my keys and slumped against the wall. Gingerly, Eli coaxed me into the room, leading me directly to the bed. "Where can I find you some PJs?" he asked.

"Second drawer," I pointed. He retrieved me an oversized, old Degrassi t-shirt and some of my fluffy pajama pants with penguins on them.

"I'll, uh, step out and get you a glass of water," Eli flushed red. He grabbed my keys and the tumbler off my desk, and left the room.

I stood dizzily, stepped out of my jeans, removed my shirt and bra, and put on the clothes Eli had picked out for me. More comfortable, I crawled under my covers and focused on making the room stop spinning.

Eli came back a moment later and set the full glass on the ground by my bed. "Imogen isn't here, is she?"

"Nope," I sighed. He brushed away a stray curl that had fallen in my face.

"Someone has to stay and make sure you don't…I think it's a bad idea to leave you alone," Eli pointed out, his voice thick with tenderness. "Do you have an extra pillow and blanket? I'll sleep in the chair." He pointed at Imogen's bean bag.

I gave him one of my extra pillows and pointed at the blanket folded at the foot of my bed.

He turned out the lights, and I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of him trying to get comfortable. When the room when quiet, I whispered, "Eli?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for tonight."

"Don't mention it." I could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

A few more minutes passed. "Eli?"

He chuckled. "Yes, Clare?"

I took a deep breath. "How did you get the scar on your arm?"

"Oh," he sounded like someone had punched him in the gut. "It's, uh," he was quiet for a long time.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…I just noticed and—sorry."

"No, no. It's a fair question," he laughed darkly. "But I don't think this is a good time to talk about it."

"Okay." I let the silence fall again. "Did you try to kill yourself?"

He was quiet for so long that I figured I had definitely overstepped. I closed my eyes, letting sleep come closer and closer.

"Yeah," he finally whispered so softly I almost didn't catch it. "Yeah, I did."

"Why?"

"Clare," his voice was laced with so much pain that I could actually taste his anguish. "Not now, okay?"

"But you'll tell me someday?"

"I think so, yeah. I just need time. I'm not…good at opening up."

"That's okay," I promised. "I have all the time in the world for you."

"I won't make you wait quite that long," he promised.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry that these are such dark times. Thank you for reading. **

I startled awake suddenly, sitting up in bed way too fast. Everything went spinning around me, and I felt my stomach roll, preparing to wage war.

Slowly, I lowered myself back down, the pillow enveloping my head. It was throbbing painfully, and I had to take deep breaths through my mouth—trying to relax and settle my stomach.

I reached for my phone, which was plugged in and sitting on the bed next to my pillow. It was 12:17. I had slept past noon, and yet I didn't feel rested in the least. My eyes, losing the battle to stay open, slid closed heavily. I didn't want to go back to sleep, though; I knew I had stuff that I definitely should be doing.

Suddenly, I recalled the events of the night before. I snapped my eyes open, but resisted the urge to sit up too quickly again. "Eli?" I asked the room, waiting for a response.

When none came, I sat up very carefully—the room still started to go tipsy turvy—and looked around. The bean bag chair was empty.

Resisting the urge to pout, I swung my legs out from under the covers. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I noticed that someone had refilled a cup with water and left a folded sheet of notebook paper next to it. Minding my head, I leaned over to scoop it up.

Even though the letters seemed to vibrate around the page, I managed to read it:

_Clare, sorry for taking off; I had to be at work at ten. Drink lots of water. I left aspirin on your desk. See you later. -Eli_

Standing very, very slowly, I grabbed my glass of water and went looking for the aspirin he mentioned, touched by his thoughtfulness. And even though it felt like someone was using my cerebral cortex as a punching bag, Eli's caring nature made me ache for my mother.

Sitting at the hard wooden desk of my chair, I took two pills out of the bottle Eli left behind and then drowned the water in the glass. My muscles were exhausted, and I dropped my head into my hands. I knew that crying wasn't going to help my headache in the least, but I suddenly couldn't stop the sobs that had been building in my chest.

I don't know how long I was crying before Imogen was suddenly there, her thin—and surprisingly strong—arm suddenly around my shaking shoulders. "Clare Edwards, shh, it's okay. Sweetie, you have to calm down," her voice was low and soothing in my ear. Her warm, soft palms rubbed up and down my arms. "You're going to have to breathe soon. Please?"

Hearing the slight edge of panic in Imogen's voice brought me back to myself enough to slow the shuddering and the tears. "H-how…?" I tried unsuccessfully to formulate a question, but Imogen shook her head gently, rubbing my back.

"Have some facial tissues," she chirped, producing a small package from the bag slung across her shoulder. "And, here, I'll refill your water," Imogen said as she reached across me for the glass. She dropped the bag on the ground where a suitcase and hamper were already thrown and forgotten.

After she skipped out of the room, I felt the full effects of the headache-upon-headache I had created for myself start to settle. The pain made me want to start crying all over again, but I bit it back. I gratefully plucked a few tissues from the plastic wrapping and tried to make myself semi-presentable again.

I had just tossed the dirtied tissues in the wastebasket when Imogen came back into the room, my glass in her outstretched hand. "Wanna talk about it?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"It's just family stuff." Even though Imogen had been very sweet, I wasn't sure I was comfortable with telling her all about my problems.

But she nodded along sympathetically as if I had told her the entire, sordid tale. "My mom, Natalie, she's a spinal surgeon, and her husband was awful. She'd leave me alone all the time with him. And my dad has early onset dementia, so we had to put him in a care facility when I was in grade eight. I get family stuff."

It was weird to think that I had been living with Imogen for a couple weeks, and that was the first time that I really saw her as a person and not as the entity of my roommate. I immediately felt awful when I realized that was how I had been thinking about Imogen. "I'm sorry Imogen. That sounds like it was really difficult."

"It was," she shrugged, a sad and wistful smile on her face. "But it's part of what made me who I am, you know? Those are my stories, the tales people get to excavate from my personality. Looking back now, I can appreciate how strong of a person I am today. Everyone has problems, Clare. Getting through them is part of the human condition, and you'll get through whatever your family's going through." She delivered her insightful speech all while cheerfully flitting around the room and unpacking her bags. I sat at my desk, mouth a little slack, just staring at her. "A shower might make you feel better," she suggested lightly.

Nodding mutely, suddenly aware of the rancid taste in my mouth, I gathered my shower caddy and headed for the bathroom. I passed in the doorway, turning back to watch Imogen haphazardly throw her clean clothes in drawers. "Hey," I murmured to get her attention. "Thank you. Really."

Imogen smiled hugely. "You're really welcome, Clare Edwards."

###

After I had showered and dressed in comfy clothes, I drank a few more glasses of water—hydrating my abused body. Imogen had left a note wishing me well and letting me know that she had some workshop in the theater building for the rest of the evening.

Alone, my head still aching lightly, I pulled my phone off its charger and dialed Mom's number. I remembered that she was busy at the church just as I got her voicemail. "Hey Mom," I cleared my throat, trying not to sound like I got really drunk last night. "I was just calling to see how everything was going. I hope you're okay. Give my love to Grams. I love you. Bye."

I stared at my phone for a few seconds, considering Imogen's words. Everything had seemed so doom and gloom the night before—like my parents' marriage falling apart would be the end of the world. Now, I wondered if I had acted selfishly. If it was hard for me, it had to be a thousand times harder on my mom, and I needed to find my strength to help her.

And my dad, I considered as an afterthought, guilt corroding my mind immediately. I didn't know for sure if he was cheating on Mom. And, even if he was, he was still my dad, and I should still want to get his side of things. Right?

Frustrated, confused, and hung over, I grabbed my laptop and crawled back into my bed. After a few taxing and basically fruitless hours of trying to work, there was a soft knock on my door.

Grateful for any excuse to stop working, I snapped my laptop shut and swung the door open. Standing there, dressed in dark jeans, a ratty, grey thermal, and a t-shirt for some band called The Decemberists pulled over it, Eli smirked slowly at my disheveled appearance. "How's that teenage rebellion feeling?" he asked smugly.

"Like someone took and industrial sander to my brain," I answered after a moment of consideration.

"Harsh," Eli play winced. "That's quite the image."

"I think it has its place somewhere in a Poe story," I said decidedly.

Eli's eyes twinkled with playfulness. "And on that delightful note, you think your stomach could take a meal right now?"

As if on cue, my stomach let out an audible rumble. I hadn't realized that I neglected food all day, and it was almost five. "I have a feeling I'm about to find out."

"Excellent," Eli smiled. "There's a diner on campus that serves breakfast all day. What say you, milady?"

"I say I have a hankering for some hash browns."

"Then hash browns you shall have," he bowed, offering his arm to me.

With a giggle, I looped my arm through his. "Lead the way, good sir."

###

"How in the world did I not know this place existed?" I whined, eagerly devouring my plate of eggs, hash browns, and bacon. At first, the smells had been an assault to my delicate state, and I had cautiously taken bites of my food. But once I was sure my stomach was settled enough to handle it, I dove into the food in earnest. It was greasy, glorious comfort food, and it was exactly what I needed.

"It is a little-known gem," Eli agreed. He was working on a heaping plate of waffles and sausage links drowning in maple syrup. We ate in silence for a few minutes. "How are you?" he asked finally.

Glancing up to meet his eye, it's evident that he was not talking about my physical ailments. Concern so genuine and touching radiated from his gentle expression, and I had to look away—my heart fluttering. "I feel…better," I sighed, "but—," I trailed off, not really sure what I wanted to communicate anyway. "I feel better," I reiterated.

He nodded. "No more drinking to solve your problems?"

I dipped my head down, ashamed. "Never, ever again. Waking up was torture."

Eli laughed. "Alcohol isn't evil you know. You just have to take care of yourself when you decide to drink; you have to use for the right reasons."

"Thank you, Mr. PSA," I scowled playfully at him.

"Oh, my pleasure," he grinned wickedly. Then, suddenly, his expression grew serious, reserved—almost frightened. "So, about last night…," he trailed off. I waited for him to get his bearings and finish. "What I…admitted," he struggled for words. "That didn't freak you out, did it?"

He looked at me from under his thick, dark lashes, hesitancy and dread resonating from his soulful eyes. Carefully, I reached out to place my hand over his. Without thinking, he flipped his over to lock our fingers together, and my heart started to race—trying to beat itself right up my throat and out of my mouth. "No," I promised. "It makes me sad that you felt that desperate at some point in your life. But it doesn't freak me out."

He nodded, looking relived. "It's not like I've told a lot of people, but—the ones I have—well, it doesn't always have the most positive effect on my relationships." He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

"I don't scare that easily," I shrugged, going for some levity. "Besides, if either of us has the right to run away screaming, completely freaked out, it's you. I'm the one who went on a binge drinking fest and then threw up all over campus." My stomach roared a little as if remembering last night, too.

"Pfft," Eli waved away my joke, a smirk on his lips. "It takes much more than that to send me packing. I guess you're stuck with me."

"Well, that's a two-way street, Captain Moody."

###

Tuesday morning, I took my usual seat in Physics next to Adam. "Have a good morning coffee," I greeted him, sliding the extra cup—two little squirts of Vanilla creamer and a packet of sugar—over to him. I set my own coffee down and extracted my books from my bag before I turned to get a look at Adam's face. "Oh, God, Adam, what happened to you?"

Adam's hands went to his face almost immediately. "Oh, this?" He waved his hand like he could bat away my worry. "This isn't a big deal."

"B-but…your eye," was all I managed.

"I may have gotten punched a little."

"By who?" I roared, just about ready to storm out of the classroom and track down the person who had done this to my friend.

Adam grabbed onto my arm as if sensing my plan. "Calm down, would you? Geeze, Clare, you would think you had found me bloodied and within inches of my life. It's just a black eye."

"Was it your roommate?" I demanded, not to be assuaged by his nonchalance. "That Owen guy?"

"Look, I contacted housing this morning. This isn't you battle," his voice was pitched lower than normal, all serious and un-Adam-like.

"I just don't understand why they're hurting you."

Dr. Leskov walked in, then, heading toward the front of the lecture hall to start class. Adam seemed to be struggling with something, his eyebrows pulling together uncharacteristically. Finally, though, in lieu of an answer, Adam just shrugged.

Turning my focus to Dr. Leskov, I reserved myself to find out what was going on with Adam. He wasn't safe if the person he lived with was beating him up all the time. And I wasn't just going to sit around and let someone hurt my best friend.

As soon as class was dismissed, I turned to Adam. "Want to get lunch or something?"

He had already packed up his things, looking ready to make a run for it. "I have work to do." He grimaced apologetically, but the usual sparkle in his eye was absent. "Thanks for the coffee, Clare. We'll talk later."

I sat, stunned, watching his retreating figure. After a few seconds, I methodically gathered my things and sent a text to Eli: _lunch at The Dot?_

I started walking there, and it didn't take Eli very long to respond: _still in class, see you in 15?_

_Sounds good_, I typed. The student center was crowded, and after a couple days of the mostly-empty campus, I was feeling overwhelmed by all the activity. Plus, my mother hadn't returned my call even though she had promised she would call me after the bake sale. School was starting to get seriously time consuming, and we had our first Dawes test on _Jane Eyre_ coming up. And now Adam was in trouble….

Everything seemed to be building up to stress me out, and I didn't want to wait till I got to my breaking point again, with all the drinking and the puking.

Taking a few deep, calming breaths, I stepped up to the counter and ordered an iced coffee for myself and a black house blend for Eli. He showed up just as I was settling into a booth as far away from the crowds of people as I could get.

"Someone looks like they woke up with a magical ray of sun shining out of her behind." Eli chuckled as he slid in across from me. "Thanks," he nodded as I slid him his coffee. "Why so glum, Edwards?"

"Shall I count the ways?" I joked, already feeling a little better with Eli around. Like my life was somehow more manageable when I was with him.

"Only if you'd like," he offered, getting serious. "I'm all ears."

"Most of it is old news."

"Your parents are still fighting."

"Not exactly. Well, maybe. I'd know if my mom would call me back," I grumbled, letting the bitterness seep through a little. "I think she's probably avoiding me to protect me or whatever, but I just wish she'd let me be there for her."

Eli nodded sympathetically, reaching out to take my hand. We had been doing more of that lately…holding hands. It was especially nice given my full-speed-ahead charge into insanity. "Maybe she needs you to make the first move," Eli suggested. "Show her that you're a responsible adult, that she doesn't need to protect you from anything."

"Yeah, but how?"

"You'll think of something. You always do," Eli squeezed my hand comfortingly, his eyes shining with gentleness.

"Thanks," I smiled, melting a little. "Oh, but that's not why I wanted to meet."

Eli waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Really now?" he smirked.

"Ew, no!" I admonished him.

"What was gross about that?" he scoffed. "You find me repulsive, Edwards?"

"Yes. You are very icky: clearly infected with cooties." I joked, but I let my eyes take in his appearance appreciatively. He had on yet another band t-shirt under his military jacket—this one for Fall Out Boy—and it looked much more worn than his others. It seemed a little smaller, too, hugging his chest to reveal that he wasn't nearly as skinny as he appeared. There was some definition to his scrawny, lithe body.

Oh, God, had I really just thought that? My cheeks flamed, and it felt like the room was suddenly ten degrees warmer than it had been seconds ago. "Mhmm," his eyes had that mischievous sparkle, his smirk more defined than usual. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Though not at all repulsed by the idea, I instinctively withdrew my hand from his to fiddle with my promise ring. Eli cocked an eyebrow in question, confused by my sudden extraction and silence. To divert his attention, though, I blurted, "I'm worried about Adam."

Both of Eli's eyebrows flew up toward his hairline. "Okay…why?"

"His roommate keeps injuring him, but he won't tell me why. All he said was that it wasn't my battle," I huffed.

Eli shrugged. "Maybe he's right."

"Excuse me?"

Eli laughed off my incredulity. "Look, what I'm saying is, Adam's a big boy, Clare. If he wants to deal with the issue alone, let him. If he wants to talk about it, be there for him."

"It's not that simple," I pouted.

"No? Sounds pretty simple to me. Take it from someone who has had their fair share of issues: Adam will come to you when he needs help. Pushing won't do any good."

I rolled my eyes. "That's a stupid motto, and I'm not pushing." Eli shot me a pointed look. "What? I'm really not. But I _am_ really concerned that Owen might cause some kind of permanent damage; this isn't something to play around with."

"Wait, Owen? As in Owen Milligan, with the eyebrows, is on the wrestling team here."

"Probably? I don't know his last name or anything, but I saw him once. He does have intense eyebrows."

"Yeah, and he's a real rat bastard," Eli practically growled. "I went to high school with the creep, and he made my life as difficult as possible."

"He gave Adam a black eye. And he did something to his shoulder."

Eli looked deeply conflicted. Finally, he conceded. "Okay, we'll talk to him. But if he seems really uncomfortable, we drop it."

"Sounds reasonable," I agreed. "We should get dinner tonight."

Eli glanced up, a hopeful gleam in his eye before an uncharacteristic flush colored his cheeks and he looked away. "All three of us, you mean."

A moment too late, I realized what Eli must have thought what I meant. My heart rate skyrocketed at the poorly concealed disappointment in his voice. "Well, not necessarily." I gulped, trying to hold on to my courage.

Eli half-smiled, "So what did you mean?"

"We should definitely talk to Adam—and the sooner the better because I'm really worried about his health and all. But I wouldn't mind…that is to say, it would make me really happy if, you know, if we maybe, possibly went on a date sometime," I finally concluded, my fingers still nervously fiddling with my promise ring.

Eli chuckled, clearly pleased. "Twist my rubber arm."

"That's a yes, right?"

"That's more of a fuck yes, Edwards."

I blushed, feeling inexplicably warm. "Tonight then?"

"Someone's eager," Eli smirked, pleased with himself. "How about we go to this poetry slam they hold at the local bookstore?"

"It's a date."

###

After arranging a breakfast with Adam the next morning, Eli and I had parted ways—both of us a little bubblier than usual, our hug lingering.

Finally, after a long day of class and homework, I was standing in front of Eli's dorm, smoothing my hands over my turquoise dress. They were all sweaty, and I was jittery. Part of me was afraid to knock on the door. Eli was a passionate, sensitive, creative guy, and I loved getting to know him. I was sure that I wanted him in my life long-term, and I was definitely attracted to him. Not a day went by without some kind of inappropriate thought invoked by his sly smirk or his glimmering, mischievous eyes.

But what if it didn't work? What if, even though we like each other just fine, eventually we started hurting each other? Not physically, no; what if we left more permanent marks of pain and suffering on each other.

Suddenly several miles past panicked, I turned on my heel and raced away from Eli's door, not even sparing a glance back.

He found me on the second floor of the library, staring dejectedly out the window where the sun had left pink and orange stains on the darkening sky.

"Standing me up, Edwards?" His voice was carefully playful, just a hint of sadness coloring his words.

"Not…," I took a deep breath. "Not on purpose."

He chuckled, joining me on the uncomfortable, plastic couch. "Come on: talk to me."

"Why should I? You won't talk to me. Not about the big stuff."

"That's not fair," Eli's voice was heated. "I need time, I want to do it right."

"Maybe I need time, too." I tried to work bitterness into my voice, but it came out sounding defeated more than anything else.

Somehow understanding what was going on in my mind, Eli placed a comforting hand between my shoulder blades. "Clare, we're not your parents," he whispered.

"You have no way of knowing that," I pointed out. "We're friends now—good friends—and I like the way we work. There are so many ways everything could go wrong…so many ways I could hurt you."

"That's the beauty of it, though," Eli smiled sadly. His hands moved to gently tuck a curl behind my ear and my heart went crazy. He coaxed my face around to look at his, his eyes heart wrenchingly earnest. "There are so many ways for a relationship to go wrong, so it's all the more triumphant when it goes right."

"You should write that down," I murmured, transfixed by how close we suddenly were. Our bodies had unconsciously started to lean into each other, and if I wanted to move forward just a smidge, my lips would be hovering over Eli's. My eyes flittered down and then back to his eyes.

Eli laughed softly, and his minty breath fanned over my face. "I'm terrified, too, you know."

"Why are you scared?" I whispered back to him, feeling like little kids trading secrets.

"I don't think you understand the effect you have on people, Clare. I spend all day wishing I could be the kind of person a genuinely good human such as yourself deserves. You spend so much time reaching out and helping everyone else—you are so selfless. And I don't want to just be another damaged person you have to take care of. I want to be able to take care of you, too. And that terrifies me."

"You already do take care of me," I promised him. "I always feel better when I'm around you—like I can make it through everything as long as you're around."

"It sounds like one of us is just going to have to stop being terrified and make a move," Eli grinned, his eyes sparking with amusement.

"Yes, but who?" I breathed, my heart trapped inside my throat.

As an answer, Eli slowly let his hand drift to cup my cheek, his fingertips idly tickling the hair at the nape of my neck. I was holding my breath, my eyes wide, and I had to actively convince myself that I wasn't dreaming. He tilted his head up just a bit, his lips hovering over mine.

Teasing, he stayed there, his eyes locked on mine: daring me to pull away.

Instead, I kissed him. Right there in the library on the glorious, plastic couch. I closed the distance between our lips, parting mine just slightly. With a soft groan, Eli flexed his hand possessively, and my hands found their way to Eli's waist, tugging his as close as possible.

When we parted, I felt the world rush back to me, falling into place around us. My head was spinning, drowning in Eli. "That was…," I started, but I was unable to find an acceptable adjective.

Eli nodded, his trademark smirk making him look impossibly appealing. "I've been thinking about doing that since I first saw you in that hallway outside of Women's Lit," he admitted.

"And how did reality compare?" I asked coyly, blushing.

Eli rolled his eyes. "You ask stupid questions, Edwards," he teased before kissing me again.

And again.

And again.


	5. Chapter 5

**As usual, thanks for reading. I realized after I posted that my tense was screwy in some places, so the 4th chapter has since been updated. I apologize for the ickiness. Lastly, a special shout out to my friend CheapNovelty whose reviews always make me feel warm and fuzzy. I'm sorry for withholding so many EClare kisses from you. **

**Also, I renewed my Tumblr; it just has a different URL: .com. **

Adam was eyeing Eli and me suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. Even with the black eye, though, his features were too soft and open to actually be menacing. "What is going on with you two?" He cocked his head to the side.

"What do you mean?" I asked, feigning innocence. "Nothing is going on."

"But you're being all weird and jittery. And you're holding hands under the table."

Eli and I quickly released each other's hands as if we'd been burned. "No we're not." Eli's voice was complacent, but his sly smile gave everything away.

Adam rolled his eyes. "It was inevitable, anyway, save me the third-wheel pity." But he couldn't quite keep the pleased smile from forming. "Is that why you're being all weird and secretive about this breakfast; you wanted to break the news to me gently?"

Trying to ignore the way my skin tingled when Eli placed his hand lightly on my thigh, I took a deep breath. "Not exactly," I fiddled with my ring nervously. I hadn't figured out how to broach the subject without offending Adam.

Sensing my distress, Eli gave my thigh a gentle squeeze and jumped right in. "That's quite the shiner you have there."

Adam's quirked his eyebrow. "Dude, you're not married yet. You don't have to do her dirty work." Adam fixed his stern gaze on me, and I scoffed.

"Excuse me, Eli is a free agent. We're just both worried about you."

"You're really bad with the concept of backing off, aren't you Clare?" Adam grumbled before popping a few strips of bacon into his mouth.

"Adam, I love you." My voice was intense and pleading. "You're one of my best friends. I just want you to be safe and okay."

"I know Owen, dude," Eli added. "He's actually evil. I think he may have been raised by Satan."

Adam pursed his lips, poking at his omelet. "Look, I appreciate what you guys are trying to do, but housing doesn't have any open rooms. They e-mailed me back this morning. I'm used to dealing with this kind of shit. It's not a big deal."

"No one should have to get used to bullying." I was angry at Adam's defeatist attitude, slamming my open palm on the table indignantly. Beside me, Eli seemed to be considering something intently.

"Clare, you have no idea what my life's been like. I've dealt with much worse, alright? Let's just drop it." 

I eyed Adam sadly, realizing for the first time that he had as many walls as Eli. His were just better hidden; Adam didn't wear them on his sleeve. I opened my mouth to ask what he had been through that made a black eye seem like something to brush off, but suddenly Eli jumped in.

"Move in with me."

Adam did a double-take, his mouth falling open mid-chew. "You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack. Or a black eye," Eli cocked his eyebrow pointedly. "The futon's actually not too bad to crash on; I can clear out some drawers for you. It'll be kind of cramped, sure, but we'll make it work. Plus, man, marathon rounds of Skyrim and Halo."

Adam's eyes twinkled. "But you're serious? Really?"

"What combination of words do I have to string together to make you believe me?"

Grabbing Eli's hand again, I gave a grateful squeeze, pleased. I had no idea what made Eli think he didn't deserve me; he was such a sweetheart when you got past the layers of brooding sarcasm.

"Done!" Adam was suddenly his animated self again. He dropped his fork, grabbed his backpack, and slid out of the booth. "I'm going to start packing. You guys are…I freaking love you two!" And then he was running away, leaving us chuckling in his wake.

"That was really great of you," I sighed happily, dropping my head to Eli's shoulder.

"That was nothing," Eli waved off my praise. "But if you really want to reward me for my valiant behavior, I have a request."

"Is it legal?" I questioned, quirking my eyebrow at the devilish gleam in his eyes.

Eli scoffed. "You know me better than that, Edwards."

"I do know you, hence my hesitation."

"You are really just trying to hurt me, aren't you?" he pouted.

I held up my hands in surrender. "Okay, I'm sorry. How can I reward my chivalrous knight Eli Goldsworthy?"

Eli rolled his eyes. "While making out with you in library was far from objectionable, I usually like to treat the ladies I fancy with more respect than that. You owe me a proper date."

I giggled at his wording. "Okay then, what did you have in mind?"

Eli shook his head. "Nope, this is going to be special. Fuck traditional gender roles, but let me have this, Edwards. I want to take you out—the big romantic gesture. I have something planned, and I want to surprise you. So are you in?"

"I'm positively swooning with my need for you." I replied, placing the back of my hand to my forehead dramatically.

"I'm just making sure." He playfully glared at me.

Instead of answering, I gave him a chaste, lingering kiss. "I'm in."

###

Imogen was helping me curl my hair with some special, extra-thick iron she had—swearing it would look classically elegant with my shoulder-length style. Honestly, I had only submitted to her begging because she had been adamant, and the second she started to run the brush through my hair I had melted into the chair. There was something stress reducing about having someone gently comb out the tangles in your hair.

"So it's your first date, huh?" Imogen asked from behind, her speech inhibited by the bobby pins in her mouth. "Are you excited?"

"Very," I resisted the urge to nod my head enthusiastically. "I don't know where we're going, exactly, but Eli seemed pretty sure I'd enjoy whatever he has planned." I glanced up into the mirror Imogen had placed on my desk so I could watch the progress and noticed the way I simply couldn't keep the huge smile off my face when I mentioned Eli.

"Eli is very romantic," Imogen noted, carefully setting down the curler to adjust something. "Just…promise me you'll be careful, Clare Edwards."

Immediately, I bristled, assuming that Imogen was being passively aggressively jealous. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just don't want to see you get hurt. I know firsthand what it's like to convince yourself that you're helping him, but Eli has a lot of walls. And nobody can keep up a façade long term without exploding every now and then."

My first instinct was to turn around and snap at Imogen that she didn't know what she was talking about, but the sadness in her voice pulled me up short. "Imogen?" She met my stare in the mirror. "What happened between you two?"

"Though the story is half mine," Imogen explained, wrapping another strand of my hair around the hot iron, "I don't think you should hear it from me. I'm not trying to ruin this for you or Eli. I just…" Imogen paused, her face screwed up in a grimace. "I know you find my habits annoying sometimes. You're not really that great at hiding emotions, Clare Edwards."

"Imogen," I rushed in, wanting to explain, but she held up her hand and smiled at me calmly.

"Let me finish. I know you find some things I do annoying, and I know that I can be a challenging person to live with. I was an only child for a long time, and I'm kind of bad with change. But you've never been mean to me, and you've supported me. You have treated me more decently than any other human in my life, including Eli. I think you're a special person, Clare-a-boo. And while I wish that you wouldn't assume I'm a delicate flower who can't handle criticism and have a straightforward conversation with me," she poked me in the side playfully, "I really like you. You're the nicest friend I've ever had. I really don't want you to get hurt."

I bit my lip, tears unexpectedly forming in my eyes. "Imogen, that's really sweet. Thank you."

She smiled brightly, her wild enthusiasm back in a flash. "You're welcome. Now close your eyes. I want to put on the finishing touches before you see yourself all dolled up for the big show."

I chuckled, realizing I had really started to appreciate the strange manner in which she communicated. And when she finally allowed me to open my eyes, I was surprised to find that, even though she had pinned it away from my face chaotically, her work really suited my face. "I…wow, Imogen. I look great."

She blew some raspberries. "You always looked great, it's just that now you look Moreno Great, patent pending."

I giggled, getting out of my chair to give my new friend a hug. She seemed surprised at first, but soon Imogen's strong arms were wrapped around me. When I finally pulled away, she studied me pensively.

"Now, about your outfit…."

###

At seven on the nose, a hearse pulled up in front of my dorm. And I was momentously astounded when it was Eli who popped out of it, swinging the keys around his pointer finger.

"Is this part of the date?" I asked skeptically.

"No, this is Morty," Eli grinned proudly, patting the hood fondly as he passed. "I've had him since high school."

"You drive a hearse." I felt the need to clarify.

"Well, yeah. I do it for the girls, really."

"It's working on me like a charm," I joked, trying to get up the courage to take a step closer. Dead bodies had been in the back before. I shivered.

"Clearly," Eli laughed, adjusting his tie. It drew my attention away from the hearse.

"You look…very charming, Sir Goldsworthy," I finally found the right adjective, more than a little bowled over. Eli had on nice, black slacks, a grey button up, black tie, and a deep purple vest over it.

He shrugged, but couldn't quite keep the smug grin off his face. "I have a big date with this beautiful woman, and one does not want to show up looking like a fool for a big event. You look wonderful yourself, by the way, Princess Edwards." He winked before opening up the passenger side door to Morty. "Your carriage, my dear."

I grunted noncommittally, but found my legs moving of their own accord. The inside smelled musky and there were bright yellow smiley face air fresheners hanging from the rearview mirror. I relaxed a bit, the worn leather seats surprisingly comfortable.

Eli slipped into the driver's seat with ease. He pulled an ancient-looking seatbelt over his torso, and had to wiggle it into place. I mimicked him, surprised when it didn't take me too long to hear the _click_ of the seatbelt securing itself.

"See? You two will get along just fine," Eli smiled happily. "Morty's unreliable, but I love him." He patted the dashboard affectionately.

"Weirdo," I accused, smiling.

"Are you saying that going through a Goth phase in high school is weird?"

"_Phase_?" I retorted, reaching over to tug on his black, black pants.

"Oh, Edwards, you have no idea. Back in grade 10 there was eyeliner, and big, goofy headphones I wore around my neck all the time. I rarely even had them plugged in. I just thought they were the greatest accessory." I was giggling, imagining a slightly younger Eli going through the inevitable high school awkwardness.

"I bet you looked good in eyeliner," I chuckled. "It would bring out your eyes." I blushed a little, admitting this.

"Oh, I always look good." Eli scoffed. "What about you, huh?"

"Yeah, I definitely always look good, too."

"Not what I meant, Edwards." He rolled his eyes, but he was wearing the biggest smile. "Surely you weren't always the magnificent, put together model of maturity you are now. Please tell me high school was shit for you, too, or I will truly have lost all faith in the justice of the world."

"Oh please," I huffed. "Of course high school was hell for me. I spent grade nine wearing a Catholic school uniform to my public school, my best friend—though I loved him dearly—was an undiagnosed autistic and not exactly always the best company, and the principle called me a bitch one time because I confronted him with his staggering suckiness." I stuttered over mentioning K.C., my first, real boyfriend. I wasn't sure if Eli and I were at the point of talking comfortably about past relationships.

"That's what you call hell?" Eli scoffed. "It sounds to me like you've always been a badass."

I flushed, pleased by the compliment. "I was still painfully awkward, though. Looking back, I guess it wasn't that terrible, but going through it seemed like the end of the world."

Eli nodded along sympathetically. "I get that. I was diagnosed manic-depressive at the end of grade eleven." His voice was suddenly serious, and each word seemed to carefully drip off his tongue with overwhelming weight. "My highs were really high, and I would feel like I had everything under control, but the next day I'd be cripplingly depressed. Getting out of bed was like its own special torture, the smallest of responsibilities crushed me. And the depression always lasted longer than the mania. _Always_."

"Eli." His name was a sad sigh leaving my lips.

"Hey, I don't need your pity. I'm fairly stable now. I still have my ups and downs, but my medication regulates me, more or less."

A distant memory suddenly clicked together with the present. "That's why you don't drink!" I practically shouted in his ear, the suddenness of my realization shocking me.

"Excuse me?" Eli laughed, taking advantage of the light we were stopped at so he could look over at me.

"That night at the party: I remember you said something about how you're not supposed to drink, but I was too drunk by that point to ask about it."

"Oh, yeah," Eli nodded, easing Morty into acceleration again.

We fell into a comfortable silence, and I started to watch out the window, realizing I had no idea where we were. "Where are we going, anyway?" I asked, after the buildings started to thin, civilization seeming to fall away bit by bit.

"You'll see soon. I promise we're almost there." Eli smirked.

Shrugging, already along for the ride, I watched as Eli eased Morty onto a dirt path that I would have assumed led to nowhere in particular. "Now might be a bad time to ask, but you're not an axe murder, are you?"

"Come on, Clare. Have some trust in me."

"That's exactly what an axe murder would say," I pointed out cheekily.

Instead of answering me, though, Eli suddenly put Morty in park and turned off his roaring engine. I cocked an eyebrow at him in confusion, but he simply shook his head and go out of the hearse. I heard the back doors open while I struggled to unbuckle myself, and then Eli was opening the door—a picnic basket in hand.

I was about to comment, when Eli handed me an extension cord. I noticed a portable generator tucked under his arm. "Carry this?"

"To my death?" I guessed, beyond confused.

"You still don't trust me, Edwards?" he called, already heading off into the woods.

"I'm following you, aren't I?"

He glanced back to confirm, and then paused to let me catch up. After shifting the picnic basket to his other hand, he gently took mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Lucky me." His eyes were sparkling.

I melted, leaning into him as much as I could without throwing us off balance.

And then, after a few minutes of tumultuous journey through the trees, we stumbled upon a clearing: wildflowers and lush, green grass taking over for the weedy dirt and bumpy roots of trees. Just off to the right was a crumbling structure, only one wall still completely intact, the debris of the eroding, grey brick reaching out to the vegetation in desperation. Vines and moss had taken over the structure in some places while water damage and various marks of nature scarred it in others. At the highest point of the dilapidated, once-building was a circular window, an intricate pattern of iron just barely surviving.

"I think it was a church, once," Eli interrupted my awed staring, placing a light kiss on the top of my head. "I thought you might appreciate it."

"How did you find this place?" I asked as he disengaged from me, taking the extension cord with him. The sun had just gone down, leaving the world in an opalescent grey, and I couldn't really tell what Eli was fiddling with just past the edge of one of the crumbling walls.

"I had some tough times last year, and I would drive around to calm down. Kind of like getting lost on purpose. And one day I came across this place. I like to come back every now and then. It's weirdly serene. There!" he suddenly exclaimed, and then a bunch of tiny, white lights turned on. Eli had strung them across some tree branches and parts of the wall, creating an overhang of soft, glowing light.

"You did this for me?" I asked.

"Big romantic gesture, remember?" Eli teased, walking toward me slowly. Suddenly, I was aware that my heart was trapped in my throat, and my stomach was twisting in a not-unpleasant way. He was looking at me like…like nothing had ever mattered to him more—soft and intense. "You're special, Clare Edwards. And you deserve to be treated accordingly." He placed his hands just above my waist, tugging me close to him. I let my hands drift up his arms to his shoulders, and we just stood there for a moment, looking at each other.

I didn't know what to say that would let him know exactly what I was feeling in that moment. So I didn't say anything. I steadily returned his gaze, hoping he could read everything in my eyes.

A huge smile grew slowly across his features. "So, are you hungry? I brought a dorm-market smorgasbord."

"That sounds promising," I teased and followed Eli closer to the center of the crumbling church where he had dropped the picnic basket. He pulled out a few blankets, smoothing the largest comforter onto the ground before plopping down and unloading the rest of the basket. He pulled out a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, some sushi from a tiny cooler, iced tea, a case of strawberries, and a bad of dried green beans.

I had just taken my first strawberry when Eli got that dangerously sexy look in his eye again. "So…about that Catholic school girl uniform you mentioned earlier."

I groaned, shoving his shoulder. "I promise you that it was not at all sexy. So stop making those eyes at me."

"I highly doubt that," he waggled his eyebrows.

"So easily excited, _Goldsworthy_," I teased. "I haven't even told you about the vibrator I was caught with."

His mouth actually dropped open in astonishment and what I assumed was arousal. "Elaborate immediately!"

"Down boy," I chuckled, enjoying the effect I was having on him. "There isn't actually much of a story. I found it at a teacher's house, and got caught snooping before I had the chance to put it back. I had no idea what it was even for at the time, but I knew enough to figure my mom would have a heart attack if she found it in my room." Eli was hanging on my every word, a huge grin on his face as he took bites from a PB &J. "So, being the awkward kid I was, I toted it around in my school bag for a few days."

"No way," Eli challenged. He had reclined against the stone wall and was watching me intently.

"Oh, yes. I did. And on the third day it was in my bag, someone kicked it on their way up to the board in math class; the teacher thought it was a phone. I told him it wasn't, but I guess he had to make sure because of school policy. Anyway, I was absolutely mortified when he pulled it out and I couldn't answer him when he asked me what it was."

"Oh, I just hate when teachers ask questions that they would obviously know the answer to." Eli scowled amiably.

I laughed and grabbed a sandwich for myself. "Yeah, well, I was sent to the principle—the same one who called me a bitch later in the year—and he called in my mom. We had a really awkward conference in an empty classroom, and I had to keep explaining that I didn't know what the vibrator did and hadn't used it on school grounds, blah blah blah. Afterward, my mom was actually really cool about answering some of the questions I had." I got quiet, remembering how staggeringly uncomfortable she had been the entire time. But she had gotten through it, for me. And in the end, the conversation had only made us closer.

I missed my mom. Finishing off my sandwich, I leaned into Eli's side. Without even thinking about it, he put his arm around my shoulders and tugged me tighter against him. "So what happened to the vibrator?" he asked after a few long moments.

"Oh. Well, the principle actually took it with him when he left the room. I honestly have no idea what happened to it."

"Well that's quite the tale you have there, Edwards."

"Now it's your turn."

"I don't have anything from high school quite as colorful as that, but I did have something in mind…."

I sat up, attentive. The suggestion in his voice had me thinking that this was the night he would tell me about the scar on his arm, but when he started rooting through the picnic basket I became confused.

When he leaned back into position he held up two things for my observation. The first was a package of raw cookie dough. The second was a tattered, well-loved copy of _Breakfast of Champions _by Vonnegut. "Would you risk salmonella poisoning with me while I read to you, Clare Edwards?"

My disappointment quickly faded away into excitement. I had just been telling Eli the other day that _Breakfast of Champions _was by far my favorite Vonnegut novel, and that I had been meaning to read it again soon. "I want nothing more!" I clapped excitedly, ripping into the package of cookie dough before settling under Eli's arm again.

He snatched a square of the dough, swallowed quickly, and then cleared his throat. "This is a tale of a meeting of two lonesome, skinny, fairly old white men on a planet which was dying fast," he began.

I closed my eyes, listening to the way his voice navigated the words easily, like they were old friends meeting up for a familiar adventure. The soft, decisive cadences of Eli's voice lulled me in, and I swore I could have listened to him read under the soft light in his magical place every moment for the rest of my life. It was like tasting true contentment: a mix of light, sugary cookie dough and the satirical bitterness of the words of one genius being read by a boy who knew the sorrows of the world only too well.

###

"Mom, it's Clare," I sighed, frustrated to be getting her voicemail again. "I just have a lot I want to catch up on. Please give me a call back. I love you." I snapped the phone shut.

"She's still not answering, huh?" Imogen implored from her place on her bed, monologue books covering every inch of her comforter.

Imogen's last class of the day had been cancelled, and I was done for the day, so we were hanging out in the room together. "Apparently not. Why do I get the feeling she's avoiding me?"

"Maybe because she is," Imogen shrugged. "If there is one thing that acting really forces you to do, it's trust your instincts. If they scream at you, pay attention."

I sighed. "You're really insightful, Imogen."

"It's a blessing and a curse," she agreed. "It's especially horrifying considering my nemesis with tact."

I laughed, digging my Physics book out of my bag. I opened up to the homework problems due next Tuesday, trying to be studious. I gave up after a few minutes of reading over the first story problem gave me a headache.

"So what did you do last night?" I asked.

Imogen lit up. "Adam Torres came over and asked me to dinner. We shared chicken fingers and fries and a pizza, and then he walked me home and he gave me a goodnight kiss and it was magical!" All of Imogen's words came out in a rush, as if she had been just barely holding them in: waiting for me to ask.

I brightened. "Imogen, that's wonderful. You two make such a cute couple."

"We do, don't we." Imogen seemed to be talking to herself. "He's not like any guy I've ever liked. Adam Torres is special."

"No arguments here," I grinned. I couldn't wait to ask Adam about what had happened. He deserved to be happy, and I was glad he finally made his move.

"What about you, Clare Edwards? How did the big date go?"

"It was amazing." I couldn't help the dreamy quality in my voice.

"You were out quite late." Imogen waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Nothing like that happened." I rolled my eyes at her, but couldn't help the light flush of blood in my cheeks. "He was reading to me. We lost track of time."

Imogen gasped, her eyes going comically wide. "Clare Edwards, that is so romantic."

"Yeah," I tried to keep my voice nonchalant. "It is."

"Oh, you two are perfect for each other. Never stop dating!" Imogen plead, clasping her hands together in a position of begging. The she started to sing, "Caaaaaan you feel the looooove tonight."

I laughed, turning back to my Physics book. I honestly had no idea how to respond, so I just listened to Imogen sing while I read over the story problem one more time.

###

A couple hours later, I received a text from Eli inviting me out for a coffee before our now-ritual Thursday night dinner with Adam. He apparently had something serious to talk to me about.

I found him at The Dot, staring pensively at a notebook. "Should I be worried about your caffeine intake?" I asked jokingly, gesturing to the two full mugs on the table.

"One of them is for you, fool." He smirked at me, closing his journal and tucking the pen into the spiral. "How was your day?"

I shrugged. "Pretty uneventful. Mom's still not answering her phone. Oh, and," I paused, grinning like an idiot, "Imogen and Adam totally went out on a date."

Eli perked up, the smirk more pronounced. "Alright, Adam! I wonder why he didn't tell me…." Eli trailed off, looking deeply consumed for a moment.

"How is that, by the way?"

Eli shook his head as of to rattle it back to reality. "What?"

"Living with Adam. You had your first night together, right?"

"Yeah. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

I furrowed my brow. "Okay…shoot."

"I swear I didn't do it on purpose," Eli started, blushing and flustered. "I'm still used to where I keep my stuff, we had a late night, and I had my early 8:15 creative writing class. So I accidentally went into one of the drawers I had cleaned out for Adam, and…I found a box of tampons."

I stalled. I didn't know what I had been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been that. "Um, okay. There could be a lot of explanations for that," I pointed out.

"I guess," Eli allowed. "But I really can't think of any. What if there's something he's not telling us?"

I thought about it. "Do you think we should ask him about it?"

"I really want to, but at the same time, it might be obtrusive. Plus, if the two of us confront him, it might feel like an attack. Honestly, Clare, I don't know what to do. It makes me feel a little sick that he doesn't feel like he can trust us."

I reached out to squeeze Eli's hand. "We really don't know what this means. I think we shouldn't jump to conclusions. Adam is our best friend. We'll talk to him. Simple as that."

He squeezed back, but I could feel the way his hand quivered just the tiniest bit. For some reason, Eli was really on edge. "Yeah, okay."

I drained my mug of coffee. "Are you ready to go upstairs?" I asked, glancing at my watch. "Adam should be here in a few minutes."

He nodded and gathered his things, and we made our way to our usual table. Adam was already there, waiting. "Guess what?" He was beaming.

I couldn't help myself. The conversation with Eli momentarily forgotten, I jumped up and down, clapping my hands: "You asked Imogen out!"

Adam's face fell, but it couldn't stay that way for long. "She told you, didn't she? Did she sound like she would go on a second date with me?"

"Oh, definitely," I assured him, giving him a huge hug. "She had a great time."

Adam demanded that I regurgitate the conversation word for word, so I indulged him as we stood in line for the Asian stir fry place. Eli stood by, barely listening, his face faraway again.

By the time we got our food and sat down, it was painfully obvious that Eli wasn't actually present.

Adam poked him with his fork. "Dude, you haven't said a word. What gives? Please tell me you're not having second thoughts about breaking it off with Imogen."

"Hey!" I protested.

Eli shook his head, offering a miserable attempt at a grin. "Nah, I'm definitely pleased with the current female company."

I stuck my tongue out at them. "The 'current female company' is right here, boys."

Adam chuckled and turned back to Eli. "Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

"I just have a lot on my mind," Eli muttered.

"Dude, I know what you found in my drawer this morning. You totally didn't fold the shirt you accidentally took out."

Eli's face went comically pale. "Oh, yeah." There were a few minutes of awkward silence in which Adam raised a questioning eyebrow at me and I nodded, letting him know I was caught up. Finally, Eli managed, "So what's up with that?"

Adam sighed, placing both palms on the table. "Usually, when I tell people this, the reaction is almost always some kind of freaking out. But I trust you two to ask any questions you have instead of burying your head in the sand and pretending I don't exist because you don't understand who I am." He let that sink in, meeting and holding our gazes so we would know the gravity with which he spoke.

I had no idea where he was going with this, but I loved Adam. "It's a deal," I promised. Eli nodded.

"Okay, well…here goes nothing. I am a FTM trans*. I've known something was off about me since I was in middle school, but I didn't act on it until high school. I haven't had surgery or anything, but I'm hoping someday. So, yeah…talk to me." Adam blushed a deep shade of red, poorly disguised panic in his eyes as he waited for Eli and me to say anything.

I didn't want to prolong Adam's discomfort, but I had to take a few moments to process. Eli was nodding dumbly, looking pensive again.

Finally, Eli broke the silence. "Well, it definitely explains a few things. Thanks for telling us."

I chimed in. "You are the bravest person I have ever met," I smiled softly and rumpled Adam's hair.

"That's it?" Adam asked incredulously. "You guys are just, like, okay with this?"

"Well…yeah," Eli laughed, picking up his fork. "I'm not an expert on the subject or anything, but I've done my fair share of reading about gender and sexual fluidity."

"Seconded," I chuckled. "We love you, Adam, and everything you told us does nothing to change that."

Adam made a sound somewhere between an exhale and a laugh. A tear or two leaked out of his eyes. "That was totally anticlimactic. You two suck!"

Eli rolled his eyes. "Would it make you feel better if we got all broody and questioned if we ever really knew you at all?"

"Was that not what you were doing, like, five minutes ago?" Adam retorted sassily.

"See, proof that we know each other all too well."

Adam started crying in earnest, trying to hide his face. "Holy crap, I love you two a fucking lot."

I couldn't help it; I started to cry, too. "Are we going to hug now, or are you two too manly?"

"Fuck that," Adam set down his fork and stood up. "Bring it in."

And we did, the three of us grasping on to each other in one of the most crowded places on the university campus—three misfits happy to have found a place to belong on such a congested world.

###

Later that evening, while Imogen was out with her theater friends and Eli was at work at the record store downtown, I tried my mom once more. Finally, she answered.

"Clare, sweetie, hello." She sounded tired, but not the kind that goes away with sleep.

"Mom! I've been trying to reach you all week. Is everything okay?"

"Oh, of course, dear. Everything is fine: things have just been hectic at work. I've taken on some more hours."

"Mom, please don't lie to me anymore. I'm not a little kid. You can talk to me about what's going on with you and dad. In fact, I want you to talk to me; I want to be there for you."

"Clare, there is nothing going on."

I didn't know why it hadn't occurred to me before: Mom wasn't lying to me. First and foremost, she was lying to herself. "Oh, okay. I have a lot of work to do tonight. Will you call me tomorrow?"

"Certainly. I love you. Have a good night."

"You too, Mom. I love you."

When the line went dead, and I stared at the blank screen for a moment, warring with myself. Finally, though, with my heart thumping in my chest, I dialed my father's cell number.

He picked up on the fifth ring, just as I was resigning myself to leave a message. "Clare-bear! What a pleasant surprise."

"Do you love Mom?"

He stuttered for a moment, stumbling over words. "Where is this coming from?"

"If you don't love her anymore, did you ever?"

"Of course I loved your mother, Clare. She was the shining star of my life."

Even if he didn't realize it, I was hyperaware of the past tense. I started to cry, trying to keep my breath steady so he wouldn't hear.

"Then you owe it to her to leave. Stop sleeping with other women behind her back, talk to her, and then give her the chance to be happy without you." I was proud that my voice stayed stern and strong while my entire body shook from the overload of adrenaline.

"I-Clare," my dad's voice shook. "It's not that simple."

"Isn't it? Darcy and I are both out of the house. You don't have to stay strong and together for us." The words tasted bitter on the way out. "But you do owe it to all three of us to prove that you are the father we once knew. Be the strong, caring man I think you are. Prove me right. Do the hard thing because it's the right thing to do."

He was quiet for a long while. "Okay, Clare."

"No, Dad, it's really not. But it might be eventually." I hung up on him, not waiting for his excuses or apologies. I couldn't stomach them.

Instead, numbly, I took a shower, put on my pajamas, crawled into bed, and cried myself to sleep wondering if I had singlehandedly just shattered everything that had mattered to me.


End file.
